A Pome

Seeking coincidences 

amongst all these papers 

 Lost and misplaced, 

 typed and scripted for 

a mirage on the horizon-- 

 sun settling upon 

 Fata Morgana-- 

A sullen scene on the sod 

Youngsters seeking age and 

the aged recollecting the 

recollections of paralytic burps-- 

coals whooping shrouds of 

black tar smoke 

Kisses of every tear-- 

yelling, reveling in an ink 

Melting the sun for one last 

moon to float and bob in the 

deep depths of the starry seas 

Depths and debts and crossing voids

 to other magnet junctions where blue eyed

 thighs hang like fruit, 

 whispering their libido like 

pollutants-- 

wondering when 

Cranking the knob of future 

 and watching it turn but 

 Yourself turning and running away 

to see the other side of the possibility 

Breathing the spirit, 

Sleeping on shelves of clouds 

and awaking floating down 

 back to yourself, 

 realizing before and 

 dismissing after the 

 fact of birth 

Invitations to wine scented 

webs of illuminated moon rooms 

 rouse my altitude and 

I fall back into a 

 long ago autumn day 

 mouth agape and full of 

sweet breathe-- 

not even aware of the 

 Mud in her eyes or the 

 jewels in her s**t

Author's Note

A pome