the Opportunity

Never being titular but in lust,
to throwing down some sunlight
on that: coming up in black letter
on white "If This Were Only Lust…"

Amory like this is a fits and starts
thing, obviously.
Never having had sex in the morning
and then gone to work

because the opportunity hadn't presented itself.

the Plum

Like crystalline
almost, on the top bough,
astringent tart
and wet.

Coming out of season
in the summer
simpler aspect
growing wider

and wider.

August

There is no respite
from what hid himself.

I know this; it
is not August

though it
intimates it.

Morning

Eyes closed, sun

rising through milk

this is

a morning poem.

Buckminster

had a billion triangles

and we

iteration.

Imagine the operations for a good life

are a large machine around you and

everywhere would

need to be reinforced.

Something

Trust this: do not
follow the one who
looks dead inside.

Honesty, I feel spurned,
un-self-confident,
confused and fatter
and scared—I said it!
Back to the axiom:
"follow" was "fall for."
Just something to consider.