- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Ixchel
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Sidewalk chalk sketched memories.
Boy with blood. Smiles and aches.
Damn the merchants and the piper.
Wasn’t listening, just got sold
on the façade. Too busy with surgical
kits and microscopes fusing different
breeds. Mixed Santeria, Ixchel, Les Barons,
a blessed bloody feather, and moss.
Tossing it all in these days,
past the fallout. The deduction is
that there are too many coincidences
for this not to be what it is.
- COMMENTS
Anonymousover 8 years agoHere's to desperate windblown conclusions!
Reached (through a prism of loss) by coinflips,
or whiskey, weed, and pessimism.
Syncretism is always
bleary eyed and blurry.
Smudging the past
so as to make the future possible.
Cause and effect in a futile fruitless
long distance relationship.
Your jaguar ears turned back,
because even the uncertain steps
count toward the ever ticking total.
