7.5.19

Standard

Grave-like, scattered purpose
to arms proposed in a blink
letting the fester feast
upon the forest of my coping

-r. miller

Advertisements

7.3.19

Standard

The motion, erased
perfectly spectacle.
The head held least,
though by sight gloved,
militant oracle.
Fabric about her feet,
certain we coalesce
and intertwine.
The music of undreaming,
her shade astride,
cool and thrumming,
tousled and wanting.

-r. miller

7.1.19

Standard

Don’t tell me I’m not vibrant.
Among closeted tyrants,
I’m the least at home,
utterly unapologetic
and rather over-rehearsed.

Ambiguities, anomalies
cluster along the dialogue line
that runs between the several personalities
emerging from the data haze.
Amazing how we circulate, paraphrase.

I guess I’m not problematic enough
for certain tastes.
Like I don’t have enough
on my plate already.
We crave a heavier kind of love

to save us from our ghastly inner light,
but all we get is candied blight
and stomachaches.
I’ve been faking it since day one.
Or so I keep telling myself.

-r. miller

6.28.19

Standard

So we excluded the rains,
dampening brains,
fuzz of weak light trickling.
About the fragrances tickling
flowers one never spoke.
The joke of it pursues weeks on end.
We all of some tackled
defending auras rueful
in the process in name if not deed.
This seed of a glance carries where.
Certainly upshot with motility
corrects the clobbering noon.
You’ll swoon and spoon
your way into posterity.
Pliant and then some.
Prosperous and engorged.

-r. miller

6.26.19

Standard

Whoever said too much heat?
Mangling sweet with lipstick on the gums.
The phrase in a flummox
beating its way into the wings.
Exposure to germs, all that
and kind of like the way singing
parches the throat.

I put the coat on in a huff.

Forcibly tough guy pranks
end in disassociation.
Only and after enervation
of reductive glare.

Pare me back or bicker, but quickly.
The jewelry itch done me again,
seemingly crabbed.

I don’t withstand much these days.
I don’t do ruffled feathers,
kindly carnage, sifting whispers.
Have one vague perturbed
precept radio flow.

Come on predestination
and express this as a farce.

-r. miller

6.24.19

Standard

The way of moving,
hapless disaffection chews
the blight terrain egregiously.
Hopefully worth the risk.
At times too frisky to measure,
but others, too predictable.
Brazen trash coos
burn mesmeric beyond reaction.
Possibly I paid, relinquished.
Me in a liquid body
courses to ruin or apogee.
Swear the filter breather ritual
follows its flaws to the letter.
Not one distinct. Neutral blather.
Heated around the lips
I’ve been given to pucker.
I swear by swelter, seems to me,
asleep in the departing.

-r. miller

6.21.19

Standard

Festooning the formless,
little blazes blink despondently
something untranslatable.
Am I something more
than a mere totem? To what effect?
And is my name
a shimmering rope of tinsel?
Best leave those questions unasked,
otherwise we might become problematic.
A mist of bad intentions
leaves me more stupefied
than stymied (But it helps).
Correct me if I’m helpless.
My inner peace is a bloody shambles.

-r. miller