“July Poem”

I don’t claim to be a poet. These are merely copies of creations on my refrigerator (thanks to Magnetic Poetry) as I awaited the oven to preheat, water to boil, casseroles to bake, or eggs to set. Although I may have accidentally burned a few things, the results (the lines, that is) often spurred interesting discussions or translations allowing us to forget about the burned meatloaf.



peach juice sweats from the moon
as a symphony of shadows play
music to languid winter feet
and delirious girls with sad whispers

under a black rose
raw urges beat rust from the blue car
yet love is the only drive
behind true moments of a day

rain pounds frantic men with delicate language
they stare
but need vision and dreams
for two ships in a sea of sordid bareness
please no woman
nor luscious gardens sweet as a thousand drunk summers

these repulsive iron chains manipulate
my TV
as if someone is watching
through the ugly picture of a bitter chocolate sky
there he will shake the beauty away as wind
cries after cool weak diamond storms

we moan
we sleep
by lazy forest fingers
beneath lather light honey and blood red milk
our gorgeous power is not what is essential
all smoothly incubated
so her chant will soar

i love you like always never
some do lust
she wants mostly to tell of purple mist
after it felt fastly about
in an enormous life elaborated & read as you would a mad fiddle

hot tiny floods lie still
in their death
the lake must swim by
you put water in my bed
let it rip

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