poetry

lunch blues, haikus

How do you measure
the beauty of a woman,
by heart or by face?

Neither, I assign
points to all relevant bo-
dy parts; take the sum.

//

It’s easier to
avoid pleasure altogether
sometimes, I think.

//

he looked at me twice
once to take inventory
and once to consume

//

“terrible angels,”
do you remember that song?
I can still taste it

//

I prefer the valleys
mountain peaks swell the body
pregnant with hope

//

hope:
a slow kill
a terminal illness
a mid desert mirage
a wolf in sheep’s clothing
dessert before dinner
a back-handed reply

//

she feels it too much,
the sunshine; plays in the sha-
dows, big valley girl tears

//

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