rdking.net
Poetry Samplers
(rd king dot net)poetry and digital art
Jazz Nebraska
Aged Eclectical
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1: The Horizon Resplendent love—climax and proliferation. Languid dreams in which a one-winged angel combs her hair. The horizon an irrefutable banquet, quail. 2: Drift The lavenders' lavender sprays like a lawn being sprinkled. Wind through the pines. This rakish June light. The lavenders' sprays; the lawn being sprinkled. A butterfly swaying on the butterfly iris bud. 3: Peripheral There are things no one expects to talk about, until you meet someone who can. A red blossom elects to descend from the camellia onto the sullied earth beneath. 4: Summer Evening The color of a dark room, flicker from the candle. Slow tick of a ceiling fan. The love spent on an old dog. Fey moonlight in the back alley on trash night. 5: In the Summertime I suppose we could call it love. A summer afternoon spent at the park. A tablecloth on the picnic table. Barbeque smoke. A ball for the men to toss about. 6: Summer Song Yet another evening summer. The windows open. A fan oscillating in a dim bedroom. A woman singing, softly (Blue Bayou). 7: After Gyozan I've reached my 77th year with some pain, small hardships— the stars are stunning when you can see them. A few things never change. 8: The Dancehall Thus devoted in decline, in heaviness and in repose—unabated, unattended, it seemed appropriate to note the skinny kid standing sullenly outside a dancehall. 9: The Music Music drifts out of a windowsill. A boy runs unchecked. A truck stalls on a hill. We hold this quietly in mind—what else was there to do? We met some girls, smoked. 10: The City Drawn against the morning sun, the city in perfect detail. Some thin clouds, brick walls, exhilaration. Most things now reduced to an earnest blur. 11: The Night His bar closed, the starry night. Warmth through the snow—train rattle, window fog, silent release. A bathroom door left open and still lit. Love left from someone, light. 12: Preference There are things few expect to talk about, until you meet someone who will—but why discuss what-ifs when you can walk outside, cut some flowers. 13: Worry Adrift in days of lost whatnot . . . and then one morning a rain begins . . . thickening clouds dimming the sun with a daylong rainfall full of boredom or remiss bringing a somberness to resettle our fluctuating worries. 14: Smoke An errant but lovely thought found at the sandy edge of a parking lot. Thick-chested angels brandishing surfboards. Wet suits. Watching quietly in a parked car. Exhaling smoke. 15: Perspective There are things most everyone regrets to talk about, until you meet someone with the desire— but what can you say about any thing that lacks permanence? 16: Still Life with Rain Rain adheres to our window and lenses the early evening light: red bark, green leaves. I finger a window where an olive lights my martini glass. 17: Ponderance I've reached my 77th year with little pain, few hardships. War is no less abundant now than then. I find myself in worry— the forthcoming reign of terror. 18: Fire We were. We remain, different than the others, far more lone cerebral—but less than cautious of our desires. Our campfires, the small light of caves, signaled to all else, where we were. 19: -1 - (-1) = one what? With little pain or hardship not sure it matters anymore. I got wireless. Got good music on the wireless. Still got a song in my heart. And, it's trash night.
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