Thursday, November 5, 2009

Originally Posted 10/27 in "Dwell in Possibility"

I'm in a graduate workshop at the University of Missouri. This is my most recent word play for that class.

Drink, Dance.

You the loose-limbed, smooth
as finest liquor--
is not a well for redemption
a thing of sheer beauty?

My body imprints
the evanescent moment,
petty crime behind
the mask of divinity.

Your impeccable eye reveals
hero, pretender--myth
born from stillness. How can you
claim you do not see

God? If you have yet to experience
the remarkably sensuous,
warm your hands by my parable.

I am a shot of rum
on the table, a sonata
playing to an empty room.

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