Erotic poetry

(ALMOST) COMPLETE

in a sort of Zen
moment
in a sort
of Zen
state

everything is rare
nothing is overcooked
repetition is
not death
repetition
is
exquisite

living, writing
moment by
moment, from
moment
to
moment

scrap of
paper by scrap of paper
the great text
of the world
coming together
hand-
to-mouth

the poem
(almost) complete

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Standard
Erotic poetry

EXPRESSO WITH

THE GOD OF WAR

I sat with Mars
for a while
discussing men’s health,
success, sport and strategy

we drank our
double expressos and
I complimented him
on his tailored suit (such a relief
to get out of
that armour?)

he was consulting his cellphone
when the sirens
began to wail (something
he had expected, anticipated,
perhaps even provoked?)

already — as he apologized and
made good his departure — I
sensed what

the headlines might read, sorry,
have read, if
it were not
now suddenly
world
without headlines
(share prices plunging
all the way down to
zero)

what price business strategy
when
the great god of war
and big-dick masculinity
recalled
post-haste to Olympus by
lump of
preternaturally heavy (and hot)
ancient ticking rock?

Standard
Erotic poetry

DEAR FRIEND

dear friend
I shall think of you
hope for
you
pray
for you

imagine great
scenarios of
your happiness

and when I am
of this Earth, and then
cosmic
dust

and you imagine — against
all reason — you
heard your
name
mentioned

sweetly whispered
do not discount
that it could be
me

raised (to some extent)
for this very
eventuality

Standard
Erotic poetry

HEAVY METAL

much metal hurtling to
a stop at the intersection
you can compose a
brash rock and roll
that would do
justice there

but at the crossroads
better break the neck
of your bottle and wait for the Devil
no need to read the
microscopic small print
regarding eternal
terms and conditions
to become the wet-dream
guitarist you would give
more than
just your life for
you know in the nature of
this transaction
Lucifer
got you screwed.

Standard