Fear

In the ladies room at the office today, I idly picked up an issue of AARP Magazine and read a charming little essay, wherein the author was describing playing with her grandson, the first boy in her family. She writes that she is learning about men from this little tyke. He is teaching her to view the world from a man’s perspective, for the first time in her life. I enjoyed the article very much.

Then I noticed the author’s name: Erica Jong.

Oh, my god.

Savior

When you sit down to eat
Prepare to say grace
For the food
For your life
Don’t look upward
Look down at your plate
At that slice of roast beef
That filet; that chop
A life was taken
A sacrifice
So you may live
And though not
Given willingly
It would be
Insulting
A sacrilege
Blasphemy
To direct
Thanks elsewhere
When the giver
- The real Savior -
Sits right there

On your plate

J&Y

He loved her so much
He thought the world would, too
Writhing with jealousy
The world turned its face away
Hating her
How could he love her more
- Damnable ugly shrieking bitch -
Sucking him dry

Years passed
The world finally looked up
Saw her through his eyes

. . .

Oh

Spiders

Busy today, so one from the grab-bag.


















Spiders climbing
One, two, three.
Like most creatures -
Hes and shes.
Take a look, though
Carefully.
Tell me what it
Is you see.
Which one is
what? - You tell me.
Nature likes
Androgyny.

Shining

Shining like a half moon in deep night
Pale light skims along a leg
Deepening shadow at the cleft
A finger of light touches a rise
Not light like a feather
Strong like a human finger
The illusion of pressure
A current of air whispers past
Fine hair rises, electric

A Man

Sarah got herself a man
A man to work her land
He plowed the fields
He improved the soil
He planted some seed
That man worked hard

Lust and Love

- Gustav Klimt

Lust is honey, cloying, sweet
Kept at its height when incomplete
Similar to lust is love
But one's a goat and one's a dove

Lust cries out - hot blood replies
Quench it and away it flies
Love’s lips whisper words like this
And tickle past lust’s dark abyss

A tender bloom to be enjoyed
Fragrant, fat, and soon destroyed
Love’s at its richest, best reward
When met just once . . . and once adored.

Psyche Sausage

A blast from the past (2002), as I must skip lunch to work and have no time to primp what I had begun to prepare.















The lover waits impatiently
for what love will reveal.
A prestidigitator, it
conspires to conceal.

The author of his own deceit,
he writes while in his passion
a fictional accounting that
can brook no close inspection.

Averting eyes, he graciously
accepts what is not offered
and disregards just what makes up
his lover’s psyche sausage.

Assisted by its audience,
love focuses attention
on objects of no consequence
- a competent magician.

Hair and lips and sweet incense
eddy in the mind
but these belong to youth and will
someday be left behind.

Bugged

Bug Eyed Earl mocks me
Even he is writing
Then again
What else would he do?
Don’t tell me-
I don’t want to know.

If I hold my breath
And push
Maybe I can force
A poem out.

Nnnnnnnnnnnn

I’m trying.
Nothing seems to be coming.
I’m way out of shape.
I’ll just do one lap today.

If I hold my breath
And push
Maybe I can bug
My eyes out.

Nnnnnnnnnnnn

Are they out?
They feel out.


http://www.redmeat.com/redmeat/2000-02-08/index.html