On
this day that we take tradition in hand and ritualize romance with formulaic
fastidiousness intent on obfuscation I take an axe in hand to clear a space
where I can wring a few droplets from the veil perfectly pressed for the
presentation so some part of me may penetrate the platitudes.
homeless
on love’s avenue
i
push a shopping cart
i
view a heart carved in a tree
as
an abandoned art
the
constant drone of saxophones
that
jazzy up the jazz
make
the crowds feel all alone
while
i walk slowly past
the
baker bakes the birthday cake
three,
no four stores down
his
livelihood makes my heart break
and
write these verbal nouns
i
can’t immerse a single verse
into
the public pool
the
absence of you i traverse
till
i’m a dunce-hat fool
cause
fetal i feel beetles
crawl
across my skin
the
genius becomes feeble
and
the argument is thin
the
meaning of the satellite
that
separates the sound
will
never have the strength to smite
the
truth it can expound
that
arms around is not the sound
that
deafens both the ears
your
love sustained becomes renowned
and
lets me disappear
till
all the wounds of untouched flesh
are
branded by your touch
before
i know my final breath
i
just want to know such
***
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