spasat'sia

hardship
of the kind only prior
lines could know my

sweetest Magyar countess.

Duress
could not compel
my thinning tongue
to babel

sounds and syllables unstressed.

Rodion Romanovich

There was a blitz,
evening glitter in pulses
of gold and rose

History a dragon,
bleeding scales and Arturian daggers

Petrograd
shuffled awkward Finnish feet

recoiled.

This flimsy power outage
summons patience and candles.

I lie in a still warm
den with poets
and liars.

in-win chagrin

I side-step
villains and vampires

to suggest

that you were never the first, and seldom
convinced the Test. I confess.

Life digests,
resurrects. You were always my

alibi, my one and lonely best.

just shows to go

that I can be
beautiful in the method
of Monroe

but where does that plug grow?

you know;
the one that turns ON or OFF,
like a satori in Alexandria
or an afterthought in Cairo.

more is the same

geometer beware
your focus
cannot triumph

over the conspiracy
of sheep devouring crow.

society does not collapse;
it merely despairs.

woebeggon consumerist

licking vinyl lips,
our pleonexist
shimmers to win

a bird of paradise,
erotically perverse
my hips narrow,
throat opens

to ingest all these heady
Christmas scents.

beautiful automaton

I long
for steel in place
of bone, the perfect anatomy,
no decay—bloodless stone.