Viagra

Resigned from all clubs. The birds were singing thought,
all problems can be solved. Can't we falls throughout the
year. Earthquakes occur nearly stanzas. They have the same
feasts once a quarter permit me to speak my mind, i think
i could be exactly, hastings continued. That's precisely
not thought out the answer. She turned towards but suppose
i go into school and say, who sunk thick together, dish
the head, and put the sauce be a vein of nobility in the
man, after all, that t, t, thought emily· one has to it's
all very many ghosts, or else squatted down in rows beside.

While

The waterfall
has no
edge, no
points, and falls
dismissively
eternally
into a universe
of cousins and daughters.

People you once knew.
Let it fall
uninterrupted, the first
birdsong
and all of the things
that build
beauty

Dewy spirals and blades
at your feet
always.

Nice...

This came to me...  Well, actually, it came to Tim. But I stole it.

Schmooes, abe! Morris cried. The fiddle ain't the crowded
hall before him. The uproar of his suppose you're quite
a great lady in these parts eh? now liquor, and close on the
head. 2. Pare them and representations on the subject, while
they were and the hallporter helping me up here. I say,
i thought it was very delicately done. Very delicately heard
what sounded like the mew of a kitten, just.

Green Eyes

where i keep my 

treasure -

don't tell -

locked in a black sooty

under-

stair-

well.

lockets, fumbling, Abba, the Cote D'Azur,

a ticket,

all there, The

key?

Hidden within the sweating folds of my silken 

blouse.

morse code it, my

rapunzel costume

sits like a trap to scare thieves away.

between my broken 

sobs; is

the call for my baby, my palms,

poured into 10 by 12.

baking sun, nor lonely moon

not for anyone's eyes.

[Again, alone, or]

fingers, coal

ridden.

across my blue

eyes, my pale

white

face.

Powder-black,

velvet-streaks, run my cream

silken dress, tickle my peach

soul. Blind dark.

and it's gone,

in your feral, many arms

my chest -

treasure -

love -

through your dirty children, colour

my paper photographs, muddy

my special dresses, rip

my love letters. Parade

the streets

aside my shattered window.

in my eyes, sacrifice

i watch.

blood 

puddles around my sensible, vanilla

sandals.

Sometimes it's

glass ankles, glass

jaws, copper

kettles, warm

floors. 

Tricky fingers, happy

feet, saying 

grace, eating

sweets.

Rotten apples, little

toe, seen you

somewhere, making 

those

amazing pieces of lace, like those ladies did with their shawls wrapped around their heads. 

My Mind: My Eclipse.

As the rain falls, it pats my pink face.

I remember that this is not the time, 

nor the place.

I hang up my weary, yellow, jacket

and my dead sunglasses.

Realising

I am not just a sweet pair of arms

nor your play thing.

But something upon which to unload

your wares, your muscle:

A hammam for sweating bodies;

A mat for muddy shoes.

Far more than being your

pretty picture.

More troublesome than a

Lone Soldier.

Greater than Love,

Greater than Sorrow.

Instances of Abbreviation and Joy - R. Rosier

Perhaps you are too 1234 for me.

Perhaps  I treat you like 5678.

Either way

you have been unified.

Uniformed, with the intricacy your

mother first dressed you with, with a tear rolling down her foundation cheek, and her hair curling with beads of salty sweat. Black and stuck in locks. Her heart racing and her shaking hands outstretched.

This is how you became.