Happily thumbing through yesterday’s Seattle Times,
graced by a moment, as imperfect as a peach,
days before fully ripened
still it’s scent unlocks olfactory chambers
more powerfully lasting
than the trigger on a Semi-Automatic
like the earthy downy fuzz of a newborn’s head
if the texture isn’t right, if the peach
begs a crunch, albeit it should be an effortless gush,
from the invasion of my teeth;
fails to drip it’s fragrant juices down my chin;
alas-I will still appreciate peaches
the way I appreciate yesterday’s newspaper;
it’s good enough
ideas layer themselves
A blog about Boys,
photo paper, SD cards,
so delicate….aren’t toys,
the urge rises again,
what can I buy that seals the hole,
the whole……the hole?
distraction is a rouse,
As is putting on make-up
and a grey silk blouse,
How do you do?
I said, PUSH HARDER,
dust is supposed to fall in your eyes;
If I were a mole
my whiskers speak in twitches;
caffeine, blinding daylight.
I should have tunneled the whole underneath of the lawn by now,
despite the nag of your mind
“you’re devil spawn”
press, and press, and press,
you should allow it, feel it, smell it, want it…..
invite it in,
it’s name is success.