ForkWordPoems by Inchiki |
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For my LoveMy Love said "why don't you write poems for me?" "I don't know" I said, "It feels too personal" but she insisted and so here are a few words about Stinky When she smiles it's as if butterflies come out of her shoes I am o'erwhelmed. Also when she smiles wild horses are let loose in my loin parts and she has to get a hanky that's why she calls it "hanky panky" & qualifies me for some spanky (ha ha! not really) My love is a bird that much is clear - at least it's what I hear her feathers ruffle easily, that's when I find I've done some mistake or not understood her whim in every way in all its facets taking into account her real whim which is disguised but easily detectable to Him Him is her lover to whom I aspire and cling like a barnacle-thing on the side of a great silent wail My love does not love me in the ordinary way our love is obscure beyond the calculations of supercomputers its fires are more subtle than the faint pulse of the furthest quasar just barely detectable to man using instruments calibrated to unravel the deepest paradox I am here today covered in dirt my arms are too long my nose is too big you cannot escape my hold when we kiss I poke you in the eye to whom else will this friendless man travel? when the road is unwound where is his heart but in your clutch? where is his aim? his crutch? It is way out it is broken all I have is you Rhymes for a mood, 2007 |
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