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#25 – BLITZING

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Three mojitos to the wind and a fourth

oozing its seductive lure with drops

of cold condensation, begging to re-gloss

my warm, minty lips;

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today’s breakup fiasco fogs

and fades into tomorrow land, grants

me a temporary pardon to pursue a trip

to the circus.

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I spin on my merry-go-round barstool,

survey lions and tigers and bears, oh my!

circling like hawks, sizing up my will she?

won’t she? meter to see if I’m worth a dive

for dinner, and the band blares on.

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C’mon over here boys, wanna play with me?

But watch out! I might just kick you in the…

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#24 – ROTUND

 

 

 

 

Renoir worshipped us

but modern society pooh-poohs

our ample curves, our risen dough flesh,

our baby got back.

 

Heft, once thought to be the epitome

of good health, was a reason to rise

for many a Medieval knight,

 

but today we are seen as over-

indulgent, undisciplined, depressed.

We not-the-slim-cool are snickered at

by those bulimic stick chicks

and arrogant Jack Sprats;

shunned by the press and loved ones

who’ve been brainwashed

byVictoria’s Secret,

the 5 o’clock news

and the AMA.

 

While we, alone inside ourselves,

echo silent screams and live

in a small-minded world

manipulated by a gnawing hunger

to be loved.

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After flowers have died and dried seeds fall, and the life cycle resets.

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Next Post

He loved all manner of rich and fatty foods:  kitchen sink

ice cream sundaes, double stacker bacon chedder

cheeseburgers, the chewy crackling from a roast pork shoulder;

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and hated anything remotely related to dieting:

counting all those calories, removing all that lovely fat

from meat before cooking, salads with low-calorie salad dressing.

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The doctors warned him, but he developed dead ears.

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#21 – VIGIL

 

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By the sea, where the bluff

rolls out its uneven carpet

and the monarchs are blown

inland by the ocean’s breath,

you’ll find me.  I’ll be waiting

for the tide to turn, waiting

for your return.  Until then

I will content myself

and watch the boats

bobble on the horizon

and dream: you, me…

 

Monarchs take flight in my stomach.

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#20 – UNION

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High in the night, we rock,

we rock in the stars,

heed the call of a lunatic moon;

shed our armor, loose ourselves;

pulse brighter then supernovas

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as we move in cosmic rhythm,

the universe breathes in and out;

we unburden and untether, embrace

pure instinct in that final, aching moment

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when heaven’s door comes ajar

and allows us a miniscule breath-

how our souls revel in the floating

as we shed the  needy weight

of corporeal bodies.

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from The Ride, by Ted Kooser, [i]Flying At Night[/i]

 

 

When you are Fuyu, firm and crisp,

I hunger for your  luscious meat; gourmandize

your honeyed flesh from the inside to the out

of your ochreous sac; and when you are soft,

rich and dark, I tongue scoop your ripened jelly,

let your juices flow thick down my throat.

 

When you are Hyakume, plump and soft,

pregnant with seed, the rarest of all;

when goma veins flood your brown sugar flesh

you are the fire of Zeus, a manna for the gods;

the sweetest lick ever; and like forbidden fruit

offer me exotic pleasure.

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