waxmatters

poem for shawna

ocean lake brine with an africa mind

prehistoric, mesozoic, reaching heavenward

gripped by musical passion i sit and learn

i prepare for my regional performance

i sing sang the song of songs

ironically mining for gold and power

while processing silver and lead

i do not wish for dead jus more life is such a strife

the interminable latter sits and stares

i climb down so far but go nowhere

with hands full of lust and a back full of love

i sputter from the trolley, inches from my nose

i want domestic success, plastic or paper

but i want a house and family, sooner than later

i swept past her face like a tunnels jagged ceiling

i love her now and forever

shawna, under any weather, so appealing