4/30/17

Standard

Jaded for a time,
something of a monument
pierces fiercely soupy clouds.
Once a clodhopper, now a lucid youth
surviving his 20’s for the fourth or fifth time.
Just remember what they say
about asparagus… Soon after wavering,
the soiled masses will come
to grease my grin and fleece me
where I least need fleecing.
The deceitful show tunes never carried me
where I wanted, so now it’s off to bed.
It takes guts and mustard to get ahead.
I’ll take two.

-r. miller

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4/28/17

Standard

Like a burning dirigible,
she comes guns in tow
to sticker me with shock.
She says her name is Emily,
but I know it’s actually
Elizabeth or Sara or Britt.
That’s the short of it.
And she smiles, half-mockingly,
half-rhetorically, asks me
how exactly I’m getting on
with my vices and iced glasses.
She’s a spectacle, she is.
She deviates with distinction.
Her lurking, lyrical gaze
bestows form to my folly.
And as she turns on her breath,
she lays her fingers upon me,
unpins her gown,
and grows ripe in the sun.

-r. miller

4/26/17

Standard

summer in your hands
most disorderly and in your eyes
in your heart where blood flows
dutifully but not for me

that’s what hurts isn’t it

and sometimes when I see you
polished and posed I want
to lean in closer but closer isn’t
a feeling we’re meant to share

that’s what hurts isn’t it

and usually I end in trembling
so this is usually with me
no better for anything and you
still not wanting me how I want you or at all

and that’s what hurts isn’t it

-r. miller

4/20/17

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Regard the welter…
Splendid swelter,
the drips and drops,
brain meat spasms.
I’d slather you in weirdness
and get roasted. Mantle, cold,
reflecting grime.
Which one of us is a grimace?
Thereupon the wash your head
standing overbearing flight of red.
Marble fade. Foliated term
the use sculpture metamorphosed refer.
You and me, hypothesized.
Single sinew strained.

-r. miller

Standard

Alright, here’s where I become
an understatement.
Understanding, in its purest sense,
is a fine hat to wear.
A bit more breeze, please,
and your knees get rusty,
you thrust emphatic fingers toward
a warm and squishy sky.
How utterly motivated!
I felt abated by the hazardous course
of our sex life. Gloves, strife,
and candy sweet promises, now
a little more ambiguous.
Gratuitous you say? I say fuck.

-r. miller

4/15/17

Standard

I have this itch
I’ve been meaning to tell you about.
So yeah, it goes without saying.
The emperor’s new sandwich,
have you heard?
lapdogs of eternity.
Something moves the rain,
though it’s optional.
Peace to the unkempt and the over-bored.
Life? At this ungodly hour?
That’s what I’ve been hearing anyway,
all the gossip columns
having been toppled
by Hurricane Jeff and his trusty six-string.
Congrats on being smothered by erudition.
These pretzels are making me thirsty.

-r. miller