

3 and 4Our Quasi-Love Bracelet3 and 4
It's funny that Such a small decision... ...to stumble in your house Could rejigger the puzzle of my (our?) life redundant: Now we're blood brother and sister.
And to prove it (you don't have to prove it), You braided me a bracelet From the cut-rate sting Your mother bought
From the local arts and crafts store.
The braids endlessly weave a tight circle Around my scrawny wrist... ...dents in my skin Up and down, I masturbate the bracelet, Up and down my wrist: So, so, so, so, so Uncomfortable. &nb


1st 2 poems de libro retratoMy Birth at Age 71st 2 poems de libro retrato
Cold winds shave the skin Off a seven-year old body: A limbless figure pressed against the sharp wall of school Waiting for a bell
To ring To bring in the cattle. Frozen sights at nothing in particular.
Thats me.
Oh how his parents must not care for the boy With no coat on his shoulders,
He mimics the man with no arms; And he has no shoulders And he has no wall to lean on.
How unfortunate for such a little boy With uncaring parents.
Assumptions amiss
Pour out the


roomAnd I will only speak of;room
brothal-stoic postcards, held to corrugated aspirins by leech-paste grout.
And of mans clay baked nooses that hang on epic capillaries to ferment.
And the smell of afro-sheep sliced on cannibal-machetes.
And the taste of tallied black maggots and chemical burns.
I still hate the drums and goggles and peppered hams,
that spilled to hammer into the mustard gas that would piss from the sheep’s eyes And kill this room.
I hate this room!


IIn this moment, My mind looks upon myself Curious of the shell - For it represents what I am not What a shame That we cannot appear To beI
What we believe We are.
We are, Like the age old cliché - A book. With a cover. Representative of the detail inside - Or a vacant mystery.
An intuitive witness Will Learn the person’s life. Through expression lines Contours that suggest emotionally afflictive trends The eyes however Are timeless. These Are that to which our soul is bound.
Eye c
--
Uncertain as the fingering of a chord torn prematurely, from a piano's womb!
--
Home is behind
The world ahead
And there are many paths to tread
Through shadow, to the edge of night
Until the stars are all alight
Mist and shadow
Cloud and shade
All shall fade
All shall fade
--
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