Aesthetics

How some men drool over
luscious, summer,
bare, female apparatus.
Most women ache
hearing frantic whispers
of ugly
shot down and blown away
into rejection's blackness.
Only occasionally
do they dream of dwelling
in the purple moon forest
where beauty incubates
and all play in love.

AM Confusion

Sweet peace is broken.
Horror, unspoken!
Thunder cracks open my mind,
ramrods my spine.
An ear-bleeding
bleating
assures me
I am under siege
MAY DAY MAY DAY
What on earth …
(or maybe not)
What dervishly whirling
devilishly whirring
helicopter-sounding
monster alien craft
descends from above
onto my bedroom rug?
A racket of static!
Danger has emphatically arrived.
Can I survive?
I force open my eyes
anticipating the likelihood of
injury and harm
and manage to turn off
that damn
radio alarm!

The Longest Sentence

Another day lost,
I, self-scorning and cross,
surprised once again
the day's arc has an end
(since Procrastination's cheap tricks replay
so ferociously each day)
and the chance window to fulfill
Forever's yearning of will,
too easily flee
to TV's whatever ministry
convinced later will be time
to employ the treasure mind
but as Sleep's needs override
with familiar sorrow I comply.

College Honeymoon With Self

Stately trees
nod their good will.
A breeze
tenderly pushes her
across the great, green
sloping lawn.
Dormitory mansions
unobtrusive at luxurious distances
offer solace
of solidity and easy grandeur.

She positions her shoulders
and back
against a noble tree
whose radiating arms
uphold a great blue bowl of sky.
Here she intends
to commune with the likes of
Wordsworth, Woolf, Hardy
or even the great William S.
with only the occasional fly
or ant
to break her trance.

But shimmering green leaves
whisper their secrets.
A lone bird
cuts and curves its complaint
across the sky.
The sun intrudes through a leafy curtain,
kissing her face
with light and heat
like an overzealous pet
not to be denied.

She closes her eyes and savors the warmth.
The moment.
The paradise.