10/16/17

Standard

coagulate self-distress
spittle blank likeness of wither
stumbling creep
for all gestalt
mile long wipe-out
smooth by means of glide
hulking ribbon, a redaction
speak the balance
code grizzly
or umber bubbles of fault
fling the redeemer
hard against sky

-r. miller

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10/4/17

Standard

Certainly, a show of spectacular
oracle forgery flowing stealthily
into plain debauchery as a moment dislocates
its content, is least of all
what one would call “simplicity.”
Behind these plastic walls
hide a host of sleazy eccentricities
I’m ill-disposed to ignore, but
that’s just what I’m doing, presuming instead
to pick apart my glue-encrusted thesis
piece by piece until the underlying nothing
is revealed at last and swells
to a proportion monstrous and disconcerting.
What I do with my own hurting
is my own business, thanks, and if the cranking
of its desperate gears is grating or offensive
to more delicate constitutions,
I wouldn’t have it any other way.

-r. miller

9/29/17

Standard

A presumption of crush
we intersect with diligence,
figures uplifted, fracture holding.
Too up in arms for a fragrant lust.
Mistrust assuming the posture
of an accident in progress.
Some time where no synapse speaks
of its own power to construct.
Us we form by reticence, by
fingers hot with touch.
Deja vu everywhere,
it sits in kindness and fat
and spares naught.
The look… Unfolding itself,
uprooting all calculation
with a threatening sense of purpose.

-r. miller

9/27/17

Standard

Zero to a fault,
caustic shift to page.
Bluster frail delight
in pondering grave.
One service guts the savior, please,
but in disappointed time.
A potent sense of dislocation.
This makes a new this
by rhythmic fodder.
However how we disinter.
Next disintegration
likens what the holding
signs a sleight. There,
alight upon a verbal tension,
I loosen my urge
and folly up the sentence.

-r. miller

9/20/17

Standard

a distinct aversion
to blank we in
absolving backlash
dismantled crux
absorbing the thoroughfare
for want must
needs impertinence
of gesture web
though altogether
signed off
on the negation
so it came by cutting
insofar as rut befits
the tender equipage
of what lust permits
in my palm the sighs

-r. miller

cotton mouth

Standard

I gave it to you
in blisters, rosy
and divine.
How sadly a life
hangs by its own devices…
A moment’s specialness
ruthlessly divides.
Without imagination.
The foreground of error.
We tune our hands
to what we weave.
By insecurity thrust
headfirst into gulfs
of burning sand.
With a harshness
of throat no balm
could soothe.
Our legacy is thirst.

-r. miller

4/1/17

Standard

Soon to be culled,
some whispering deficiency
and all it holds dear.
The searing flames later we sired.
Then what was up with the perspiring,
the wandering choir
or we had once a tower
erected of names
(We were once a tower).
The calendar shifted.
We misplaced vows.
Nurtured the we that spin
and cry in some weird hurricane of lust.
The thought that counts its fingers.
You and me, we two in trust,
lingering where our folly bleeds.

-r. miller