Thursday, November 26, 2015

Song of 81 Poems - XXXVI



Once we sighed to ourselves . . .
   Healed time with wine,
Improved a black-headed silhouette,
   about the need of which sweet dish
   was dazzled.

I understand she hardened,
   About cunning trouble.
Let's walk, it's better
   we know our morning glory.

To free a society, forms are modeled,
   so we can lick a Grand River!
I'm proof, see I'm sane,
Tell your bird I tripped
     on my other canvas.
Almost makes smoke investigate humidity.

I like representing your calm body as a sculpture
   though, your surface was almost concrete.
So share the new young street.
Run angry beneath empty music.

Are we greening that we should know?
A cruising metaphoric option
   licked clean of bearing.

Throw her torpid form through
Clean sex fast romance feels clever.
God rest in peace,
    Would it be tearful if I made a man
       take milky soft and faithful passion.

Unless astonished by my work and power
   your wasted selves appear many.

I've chosen a straight water ritual.



Song of 81 Poems:

  1   2   3   4   5   6   7   8   9
10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18
19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27
28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36
37 38 
38 40 41 42 43 44 45
46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54
55 56 57 58 59 60 61
 62 63
64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72
73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81

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