Ashlar is lying on my chest
claws dug snug into mine rising
falling breast;
...
Drawing the dreams
of a hundred suitors
stroking her silver bow
diaphanous, duplicitous
...
You can always tell the staff from travelers
by pace demeanor and dressing
those leaving bouncy beaming
...
Isn't it romantic
how the chrysalids land on the ice cubes
...
?
Ignorance, my adversary,
tempt me with a wish;
absolve my conscience
...
You are my living
elegy
Breathing beating beasting feasting
...
She is cleaning again
feather duster in hand
Uniform tuxedo
fanning flourish feminine
...
THE GIRL FROM CHANDLER
She can be merciful
...
She is under the canvass canopy
big top spotlit starlet she
mirror ball dew bed sequined spinning
pigment waters for wearing
...