torus, donut of dizziness,
long insecure suspense with
No assurance that all this primal
Worry and vigil will finally end;
the epilogue now proceed,
this mock-life epic
all of its earthbound farewells?
One good-bye at a time, perhaps.
Questions, the queuing up lesson,
Answers, training in durable poetry
Made for the odd duration of life.
To endure insecurity at its heart
Is to ease all tension during sex,
Be relaxed at the petting zoo,
Bear the echoes in long corridors.
Venus-like she waves to her
Man on a bone white stallion,
Heroic in scale, rearing in salute
To her fresh, luxurious makeup,
Classical subcutaneous areas
Of both amplitude and attitude,
She’s worth every parting tear.
Non-mortals suffer and tolerate
Their immortality realizing that
We immortalize them for good.
The ash tree, Yggdrasil holds
All life together, the epitome of
Sacrifice, a strange commitment,
A root goes up to touch heaven.
Aimless desire infatuates her,
As jeweled electric eyes aim
Decorous little-girl ions at all
Who attend. Unable to deter
The appetite of a saber tooth,
She goes as far as she can in
A far-out quest for perfection.
The prime of life awaits her overly
pampered body tho her enthralling,
Yet uneventful death will be a worthy,
Noble voyage of impatient pacing,
A psychic interlude with herb and
Brew, a reading or two, astounding
All who stumble across her eerie
Jeweled beam, caught in laser fix,
Detected by a state of the art trick.
To life’s inert company she toasts,
Mixing business or pleasure with
Round-Robin drinking contests for
The drunk, infinite, fried or couched,
Rusticated or merely out to brunch.
Anatomy speaks the loudest verbs
Reaching out, remaining illusive
Carrying out the main illusion, one
Too many illusions lead to staggering
Conclusions, illusory language is
The astronomy of a billion wishes
Drifting chill-white against forever.
No whiteness too sacred for hope,
A whitewash primer dope soaks in.
She can thank her earthly coinage,
Name that catastrophe, shaker of
Tectonics, no thanks to the Venus
Of three-coin wishes, thankless orbs,
thank you very much. Oh spit, now!
Her sons may come away healthy, rich,
But not thankful, no groveling allowed.
Spit on everyone who’s thanking you!
To be thanked is to throw back the wish
Like little boys fling rotten fish to sea.
No child of hers should go near where
The old monsters of childhood swim.
Childlike, on the road to Babylon
The children sink or swim along
The way, a brother, a sister, Venus,
Too slips on the bank. A brotherhood
Of enchanted fishes behave brotherly,
Turn the tide, rescue all, a fraternity
Rescues like a big brother teaches sex.
Ordinary incantation, extra unction.
Ordinarily one would think it odd
To look like the mother of sexual
Research, the bow and arrow kid,
Refreshing the woods of Arcadia
Basing love on the pull of strings.
At the well, Venus’ personal source,
Shots echo as the worn point dies.
Seated, she pays the well-digger.
A deep south contradiction says
She would rather keep her throne
And hold court in the underworld
Than marry a November Scorpio.
Whatever omens happen to befall
Her in toil, filling her jar at the well,
A soul MUST be sealed. Our common
Clay shell will not hold as much as
The empty snake shadow on her arm.
A heavenly queen, she is one wink
Away from chaos, another from an
Overhaul of the image of suspense.