Incapable Tongue

What is worse than beginning a poem with single question?
Would you agree that two questions at the beginning of a
Poem are worse than one? How could such questions improve
This rhetoric when readers simply won’t agree the best one
Is their last and, most likely, only distraction. Designer Java
Tides erode smiles, warming tongues that gracefully move
From subject to object, rich bitter concentrated dark language,
The kind that burns as it comes and goes, in and out your throat.
That acid, some sort of tannin, citrus hinted, a day off vinegar
If somebody doesn’t check the temperature before the damage
Sets in. The edge of stone tumbles through your nostrils, you note
The involuntary exhale as part of the story, the marvelous command
This half-ounce wields over you during, fulfilling, the moment
For which it was created, when taster and tasted merge. Active
Consumes passive. Passive overwhelms active in the pleasure,
No, not the pleasure, the complexity, the gathering of ancient
History into a brief present, the memory rehearsed as you relive
The subtleties of generations gathered along the yellowed denture,
Pooling at the gate of duct and vein, the wet blue underside of glisten
And gland. You want to spit. But you refrain. That’s part of the ride.
It wants you to do what it wants you to do, not what you want to do.
The is more complicated than you had ever imagined. Clenched fist in
Your face, the back of your hand funnels your breath along side
Lips and into lungs, one of each, in the same symmetry of
A squeaking door opening and closing, its trio of hinges
singing to and fro, each its own beginning, middle and end.

easier if you don’t

One of my favorite tweeters tweeted this most zen-like principle:
It’s easier for you to act on your desires today if you don’t …      More for Virgo

This is ambiguity on a poetic level, more beautiful as the accident that is its serendipity.
Yeah, sure, the elipsis leads to the completion of the sentence via the url that begs all Virgos follow it. But it doesn’t have to. The sentence is nice and sturdy as is. Just take away the dot dot dot and put a single dot at the end instead.
Continue reading easier if you don’t


Just parked in the driveway as usual
On inertia now, noticing springs uncoiling
Like night crawlers in our rain of waited
Out lawn-watering curfews, casual
Conversations on everything from petroleum
Products to fabricated spreadsheets shredded
Into pleasant rats nests for the time being,
If you don’t mind, until the pressure of scrotum
Returns to our mutual days of balancing
The yearn with planting seed in years of drought.
Not that anyone thinks it would matter
Even if they knew what you were doing
In your head, going through grids like mail slots
Behind the desk at a hotel lobby.
Just checking things out, sorting through
Bundles of joy before they turn against you
Like the wind against the tide going in and out
So many times, over and over, screaming
Toward rocks and caves hidden to all
But the native elders and their wives.

the perfect brick

is hard to find… it’s harder than a brick to find. Especially if it is a perfect brick you are trying to find. Perfection in a brick cannot be overrated. No perfection can. Yet, a brick of perfection will go unnoticed amidst all lesser bricks because nothing other than its equal is capable of knowing such perfection. Part of its imperfection is that an imperfect brick cannocomprehend the perfection of a perfect brick. Continue reading the perfect brick

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