Poetry

In a certain mind

I wipe the condensation
off the bottom of the glass with my palm,
place the glass back on the coaster,
to which it sticks
slightly,
meaning that it will probably rise up
off the desk when I next lift
the glass to take a sip.

A slight tilting
and pressing downwards at an angle
will break the seal
formed between two hard smooth surfaces
by the liquid in between.

For millennium before and after
this is something that
in a certain mind
will be noticed.

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Poetry

Cheap memories

In the movie of the picture show
your unbuttoning was over quick,
you zipped her down and the years were gone.
One war after another—call me Caesar,
call me the son of God! I leave it all
to go back to those theatre seats
and the dumb matters we felt, high on ignorance
and desire, pushing the boundaries
that are now so far from us in every direction.
It’s a new country for old men, undiscovered
by you lot, but you’ll keep pushing until
you find it and ache for the memory
and feel of those buttons…
What bargain shoppers we become
when we’ve recklessly spent it all.

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Poetry

Oh sweet Lysidice

I’m a deviant, 
I lust for Lysidice
and her see-through muslin dress
revealing her star-blessed tits,
her earth-kissed mound—
oh sacred triangle!

I kneel to pray
but there’s nothing there,
only the pages 
of an anthology of Greek poetry
open wide on my desk.

Lysidice has been gone
for 2,000 years — but boy
she’s still hot…

I’m a sicko
to get all worked up
over a translation.

Fleur, you’re cruel!

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