the color red

ideas come
in the shower:
what can I offer you?
surely it is insufficient.
I scratch the tender
skin
my breast reddening
like hell fire
where I shouldn’t have scratched
but that is how we
live and learn
and learn and live
this hell
is never-ending
there ain’t no
easy answers therefore
we put words
together hoping for
two to link up
un-ceremoniously yet
harmoniously
harnessing chariots reigns
like sun kings
gilded rays appear
your pants
my breast
my shoes
our golden horns,
trumpets,
like swans
we drink thin
martinis we
think William Carlos
Williams Pablo
Neruda who worked
at it so hard
not noticing who
was liking it or not
liking it including
imagery vivid as
sidewalk
glitter or lobster the color
red

This entry was published on 01.8.14 at 10:04 pm. It’s filed under automatic writing, creative writing, poetry, writing and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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