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green
3 38%
blue
2 25%
red
3 38%
Voters: 8.
#1
Celeste (Lather, Rinse, Repeat)

Crushed velvet tips.
The alphabet kiss
glossy corners,
verbs perch on her lips,
they're a melody now.
She aims at the sun,
conceives with her heart
and curses with her lungs.
She turns to the city,
knowing they've been pampered
with toothsome words.
She surrounds them with
a new sea, and greener scenery.
A modern mold where
every wish sold short
of a dollar, and
every child found short
of a collar
prove a liability.

There can't be guilt
if there's permission,
and there can't be permission
without a radio tower,
a satellite,
and nobody effing with
your airspace.

She tries to choke them out,
because she can't extend her mercies
to every ghost that
loves to laugh sincere
or every beatnik
that reads the morning paper,
to every bishop leaning
against east winds
or every mannequin
trying to dance
on factory limbs,

or maybe she could
if she would just look away.



Pheromone

A sigh left in slumber
tucked in and under the crevice
of a tongue, rung out
and bed-ridden, the
purest intention that
never should have
been shaped into sound.

Fingertips
laced with
caddish charisma,
parting to cover
the lips of lithe lover.
Movement as mechanical
as a jewelery
box dancer,
pir
ou
ette
after
pir
ou
ette...
Slight pause
until the music starts over.

She spreads the flood,
a solitary sidewinder
she slithers
alone.



I Can Take A Hint

I'd sworn off of cigarettes
after watching the flesh of filthy fingers
tap their way through Fibonacci.
I'd kissed the lips of such an addict,
spat tar and social intellect for days.
I'd fallen in love with a pickett fence smile
only to find that the grass
had been greener on the other side.
I'd descended from a smoke ring
with no choice but to breathe it in.
I'd given nothing other than a new meaning
to the word devotion.
Until finally I shuffled through a deck of cards
and sat there envying the king of hearts.
I bet that he doesn't hurt anymore.