deepundergroundpoetry.com
Quail in Rose Petal Sauce
Poem: You are sex;
Quail in Rose Petal sauce
You are the opinion of sex during sex
and discovered me in adolescence
Some remain silent
about what they've learned
For others, like me
notebooks became condoms
It was a requirement
until I made the mistake of
believing I was a guard myself
in no need of protection
I was working undercover
for God after all
Poem: you are no pin cushion
You are the prick of light
that helps shadows
redress, decently
You were discovered open
naked, but he will only report
what is inevitable;
the carcass of a peach
he entered again and again
with words to recreate
memory
Poem: You are Future
I am neanderthal
earthed, sealed, sinking
deeper underneath wet black stones
of my own meaning
I will remain a contamination
oil spill, dark with wonderful worms
But You will continue
down your leafy lettuce past
surroundings softening the blow
Watch whales beach themselves
on the continental shelf
from a panoramic view
Notice the steep fall
to mere interjection
.
In death, as in writing
you find yourself in different
states of acceptance
The acknowledgement
no one ever sees the gold
wing-tipped bird flash
across your dark night of soul
Poem: You'll build
a basement full of artifacts
and maybe an anthropologist's lab
where what remains
is never equivalent
to what will be discovered
between someone else's
latex notebook
~
Quail in Rose Petal sauce
You are the opinion of sex during sex
and discovered me in adolescence
Some remain silent
about what they've learned
For others, like me
notebooks became condoms
It was a requirement
until I made the mistake of
believing I was a guard myself
in no need of protection
I was working undercover
for God after all
Poem: you are no pin cushion
You are the prick of light
that helps shadows
redress, decently
You were discovered open
naked, but he will only report
what is inevitable;
the carcass of a peach
he entered again and again
with words to recreate
memory
Poem: You are Future
I am neanderthal
earthed, sealed, sinking
deeper underneath wet black stones
of my own meaning
I will remain a contamination
oil spill, dark with wonderful worms
But You will continue
down your leafy lettuce past
surroundings softening the blow
Watch whales beach themselves
on the continental shelf
from a panoramic view
Notice the steep fall
to mere interjection
.
In death, as in writing
you find yourself in different
states of acceptance
The acknowledgement
no one ever sees the gold
wing-tipped bird flash
across your dark night of soul
Poem: You'll build
a basement full of artifacts
and maybe an anthropologist's lab
where what remains
is never equivalent
to what will be discovered
between someone else's
latex notebook
~
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