Monday, September 1, 2014


To give my O so many kisses, then,
when any one of missed potential comes 
to longing mind; so many, then, when 
any morning's mirth earns mention

O --
I tell me it is time
to mock each mocking of the sun
with swell, irreverent stereo hums
and bend, and writhe, and rhyme

and, O, the syntax
of your lips is...
wearing socks in August.

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