11.11.19

Standard

Between sighs, the skin heaving,
apropos and weaving.
Intrinsic course, skin’s river flowing.
One unto another in morning or at evening,
with shadows in the mind concealing
other shadows. At last, the fault lines grimacing
and contorting as the molten center
gurgles, pushes, approves.
Promulgate the lyric jelly, harsher mistress,
and enfold me in your sway.

-r. miller

11.8.19

Standard

Derail me tenderly.
Direct all further inquiry
to the overflowing
gutters and the empty
parking lots at midnight.
I can only hold myself so steadily,
oh friend with benefits,
and this beauty mask
has grown too tight.

Centuries of infighting
have left us deaf
to further commotion.
Perhaps we ought to
commodify our losses
like proper aesthetes,
raise a glass
to this tepid spectacle,
and then drop it to the floor.

-r. miller

10.28.19

Standard

Oh slow, deliberating angel,
depart not from the vicinity of my folly.
Some things are still meant to be seen,
but only through your eyes.

Silence not the rising cries
of promiscuity in the blood,
for they guide the two of us
towards the other’s swollen switch.

The itch I have for you
is exacting, exasperating,
exhilirating.

Oh slow, deliberating angel,
linger long as I bask
in the sultry glow of your grace.

-r. miller

10.23.19

Standard

The derangement
must proceed casually,
by gradual degrees
before bursting
with supernova intensity.
By now, we should have moved indoors.
It always seems so, we’re told,
and the telling
puts us in the red.
I can’t seem to un-touch you.
This is my fault.
But I haven’t felt
the plethora of exit strategies
bunching up in my brain.
It all unfolds
according to principles.
Principles I don’t
have the bravery to name.

-r. miller