Discounted Poetry

I don't think I'm ugly. My exes say I'm handsome. I even spend some hours sweating at the gym. Nobody notices. The ladies care nothing for wit or creativity. Even smarter ones are dating athletes. Pretty women are no longer reading poetry. I don't think I'm hungry. I pay my own mortgage. I even make some decent money now and then. Nobody notices. The ladies care nothing for frugal 401ks saved. Even smarter ones are dating brokers. Pretty women are no longer reading poetry. I'd carve a sonnet to your beauty Or compare you to shooting luminous stars, You would never see or read. You only listen to nonfiction memoirs. No one's reading poetry. - 9/10/26

She whispersings my name As if a secret psalm. Her fingers ride my palm Beneath a slight pretext Of telling all my future days. She's not entirely in shape, But all her flesh is draped about her Beckoning and flexing. Her skin is always sliding Nearer to my touch. She flaunts a fiery intelligence. She tears into her croissant And sips her light brown coffee sweet. She keeps receipts. Her eyes exert a gravity I can't escape. While I would love the flowering of world peace, I'd toss it all to Hell For an hour between her knees. She's acting nonchalant, But I can smell She's soon to make a wet mess Inside that dress. - 9/9/26

The room is draining Down into the coldest ground. The air is bored and aged. There is not much use On rising from the couch So beige. You're not around. The day is stillborn. - 9/8/26

You slurped like soup A spoonful of the moon, Its light, mysterious,  Escapes your narrowed eyes Beguiling. I smell the slightest fur On top your arms. You bathe in citrus And blueberry cream. You taste of river water And the freshest, sweetest streams, And I am grateful for the mattress, Dizzy, drowning from my feet. - 8/25/26

Her language does away with words And speaks a poetry of hidden yearnings. She is nothing I imagined, Frightening, exciting. She is draining to the ocean; She will never be able to stay. Softly snoring on my shoulder She breathes out worlds. - 8/24/26

I'm keeping watch across the door, Standing in the rain You're falling free in love, Time lapse photography. The moments fast, Remembered leisurely. I'm keeping watch across the door, Sitting in the rain. The days together, Sepia, A series, Burst of shots Of intimate seconds  And animated laughter Only analyzed Years after. I'm keeping watch across the door, Lying in the rain. The end, A slow developing Polaroid, A sparse tableau in colors hollow, Instantly dated, Slowly realized. - 8/21/26