5.16.18

Standard

Kiss me on the eardrum,
for old times’ sake.
Wake and bake
to keep our auras intact.
Shutter up, nice and sleazy,
the ham-fisted approach
to easy livin’ in this eggshell suburb.
I guess I haven’t thought this through, but…
Things fall into place so casually,
it seems, so what’s the point?
The poignant charade
commences with a running start.
Our mutual heart
dissolves into a pool
of second thoughts.

-r. miller

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3.31.18

Standard

Beleaguered blood runs desperately,
awakening a dream of having.
Deception flows from speech
to speechless seeming.

Awakening a dream of having,
these happenings hold us firmly
to speechless seeming.
We lose ourselves in luster.

These happenings hold us firmly
underneath a gentle gaze.
We lose ourselves in luster,
reemerging in diluted form.

Underneath a gentle gaze,
the world grows wide with worry.
Reemerging in diluted form,
old hatreds quietly disseminate.

The world grows wide with worry.
Beleaguered blood runs desperately.
Old hatreds quietly disseminate.
Deception flows from speech.

-r. miller

3.30.18

Standard

Those who were sparrows
waxed the harrows,
and when the harrows were broken,
words were spoken and retracted
with unforeseeable force.
There were, of course,
laugh lines on the landscape
where we had dared to tread.
Nothing at all in anyone’s head,
save for a stray axiom or two,
discovered living in rather
loathsome conditions.
Even after numerous revisions,
this is the best we could come up with:
a paper town full of paper people,
so amusingly breakable.
Not the most workable of models,
but what else could have been done?
So after all the weird fun had slipped
beneath the wedlocked door,
we serious few stared at our thumbs,
sincerely dying in dumb expectation.
The fangs of creation were gnarled and free,
maliciously eager for the feel of our flesh.

-r. miller

6/30/17

Standard

You tease me,
belle chanteuse,
with a voice
as heavy as marble
and as green as marijuana.
Be gentle, or else.
I might unravel,
nerve by nerve,
and end as a squishy bundle
of bloodied threads
in the center
of your chamber
and royally undermine
your feng shui.

-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