Baker’s Dozen @ Lovin
@
Cleaned up I=soaping
a Sappho
with Plato
history in
personal fricative
appeal suckin
grapes & lemon up
to here
with forgiveness bells
lost
to knock the “saturated”
fat out of the
Washington “well”
done &
with cereal
box
Aristotle
that would be word deed lovin
@
more egg softboil for Sor
Juana’s between
albumin & quixotic
scratchy love
cheek rocking this
and that way
like
S
singing Sir Duke
higher than
angels
which would be like
@
How context
will matter: packed
to overflow
“which”=grocery sacks
lugged uphill on ice at night.
Mt. Hope Avenue. Fond
food memories of bananas
going, going,
gone
as word
cuts
abound for
years & I
@
Your lower lip a
lick show
ooooo & loud parsed
on a page
of hands
looking for more
epiphanic wise
men fluttering a
back-
up chorus: “Oh,
gurrllll, you
bible me” away
lovin
@
Wise women!
What is wrong
with you?
Singing “always”
allowed in the backroom hip
swaying Dos Gardenias
Para Ti per
nota bene &
butter tempo
to echo across
your wood floors
baby
@
Oh do not
give me more
of your
wanton “riboflavin” baby
@
this pool lacks sax like a # 2 sandpaper
after a Spicer bath lifted & cash
register ones foolish
unfortunate trombone
to sleep on
curb again
drenched in
this rain again
@
Baby I will surround
your smooth anise drizzle
with this fold
my irreverent
numbers
@
40 days & nights / happy is a fraction signing
me up i
confess
i
loved
that taller orange
flower
its cosign of petal which
reminds me
of repose &
the yawn
of your bare
@
& enclosure beautiful
ampersand
eco system of ache
for we have
to curb this so
what
@
Random ice shaved of
like/love--i am
no slurpie!
@
Enriched
ride
cauterized by good
bye
a scar
a dipped dianthus field I
@
Raining I tractor
ride this “while”
a dozen sparrows
peck epic
crumbs
along
this steaming
engine has
one flat green hood