Speak
(Everyone needs a dog to adore him, and a cat to bring him back to reality – Anonymous) My sister, looking at the poster, Reine de Joie, exclaimed, Wow, this guy looks like my poodle looks, when I kiss him. Of course, Toulouse-Lautrec’s woman is a prostitute — note the sinuous scarlet dress, the cherry-red lipstick — and the person being kissed on the nose is a rich, fat banker, while my sister is straight as they come. But her dog adores her. When he hears the can opener operating, he practically drools. Then my sister shovels the food...
Read MoreSlowness Still
Here’s the question I have to ask myself — Why is it I go on baking the words When clearly all that might go on a shelf? Isn’t “scratch” when instant is there absurd? Why go to the trouble of scattered flour When a plastic wrap at the store will do? No need for dirty dishes and midnight oil When it’s all already baked for you. Yet the attraction of what’s difficult Isn’t only in the tiny finesse. There’s a larger duty that’s grandly built, Which may be recipe to the soul’s largesse. Say what we will for what the easy brings, Slowness is beauty, despite...
Read MoreSeeing Orange
Orange yells out at me. Orange became. Was it scarlet or the boldness of chili pepper fusing madly with soft cornsilk? Or did they take turns With her silky strands? Orange is at times almost asleep, a syrupy copper tainted with cinnamon. Orange can wake and scream. Deep down orange is dangerous, its harsh edges sharp; its motion chaotic as it reaches out to me and screams a cruel twisted bloodthirsty howl. Orange. A Judas to my retina; a Hitler to my mind. Passion...
Read MoreMathematical Love Poems
Pendulum Data Expressionlessmotionless Residual plot Instruction For Naught. Function of ‘Y’ Parabola shifted Her horizontal heart Lifted. See Figure Twenty-One Your graphic technique Transformational leak. A Data Analysis The object has freely fallen In chapter one — What will we do? Obviously We will wait for it to land In chapter two. Sin One Metric function to isolate The sine of both sides Fate. Set Nine In the variable domain, My re stricted Lane. Passion...
Read MoreLove Affair in the Color L
always Love Less, to avoid a heartbreak, Love is one day Loss. OR Liftoff Liberally, evading heartbreak is no way to Live a Life. Love Lashes us with a Laborious Lease. It Leans...
Read MoreWormwood
This word was born during the time of the wandering stars. Every morning, it lifts its eyes towards heaven. It lives in Burracho Beach, California. Its mother is Emma Bovary. Its father is Ebenezer Scrooge. This word is a cool remove from the language of the heart. Its mouth is small, cold, and bitter. Its heart is buried beneath a pile of pennies. Its soul is a gilded cage holding two confused doves. Every evening this word buries its face in its hands. Passion...
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