Organically Computing

Philosophy

His philosophy
of life was existential
till he stopped being

Warts

His hide bears the sort
of princely warts that imply
a cursed-by disguise

Rover

Rover discovers a guilty pleasure,
gnawing at his master's teak rosary beads.
Penance will be five Hail Mary's short.

Potion

Purchased from an apostate apothecary,
this pearlescent potion
poises with abettor trembling tips to tease out
law's immutable flaws

Zephyr's fooling

A gnarled oak pretends
not to feel Zephyr's fooling.
Sprouting buds giggle.

Five Points

Five points flicker-tease,
"How will you stop our yawning

gaps? Can you tip-toe
tap us out a doubter's ledge,

foot-con Pentagon's
firm routes? Or diag'nals dance

to coin Pentacle's
conjuring? We'd relish reels,

spun round in Circle's
blur -- unbroken, unending."

Curl

This blushed sun will blaze
unfazed by whether
timid leaves unfurl
or my waking toes
curl up to greet her

Viciously virtuous cycles

I. White bleeds gooed and gummy
out from these gouges
pecked in a splintered flesh
of sickly pine. There,
peaking between drooped boughs,
paired ghostly Ivory
bills pinch translucent
buttons off larval treats.

II. White swings snowy beats.
Powdered breasts lift loopy
to merge with virgin vapors
raised opalescent
from pools of lye. Enjoined
where they'll saturate,
cloud-bank canvases
drip freckled gouache gifts.

III. White splashes milky sheets,
foam-washing chiseled
shoulders. A sooted saint,
who clasps at bunched limestone
for-get-me-nots, fixes
her iris-less gaze
on cheap china bowls
laced with spider-web cracks.

IV. White swirls through ashy gaps
in twin graphite prints
left from digits stopping
by while they sop bread.
Blanching, square gum is gripped
to erase fudges spilled
outside a Census box
blandly labeled White.

Crayon landscapes

She craves crayon landscapes
long ago traded in
for grownup's craven palettes

Ranges

He ranges afar
through math'matical detours,
bullet-riddled proofs

Blusterous Sirens

blusterous sirens
flummox with short blasts, filching
midnight's guarded calm.

Luggage

His luggage just clasps
outrage packed in sorted rolls.
It won't travel well.

Orange Rhymes

After a fruitless life
engaged in faithless questing,
he settles for acceptance:
There are no orange rhymes.

A few things I know...

These three things I know for certain: I am male; I write poetry; and I blog about it (the poetry, not the maleness, although I'm sure that shows through now and again). To further allay any doubts about this, check out the link 100 Best Poetry Blogs and scan down the categories. Now, as to whether mine qualifies as one of the best poetry blogs, I'll defer to others (with online degrees?).

Automated Sin

Devilish idlers
feed feverish factories
automating sin

Padding

biographically inclined floor boards
authorize the exaggerated
accounts of early morning trysts
to carpet over mundane padding

The poet-fool writes of love

The poet-fool is Someone's, who
tweezers out the slack from lock-stitch seams.

But her smile undoes this mischief well-mended,
and his motley britches fall

not once, but again and again.

The poet-fool is Someone's, who
pliers back the bend in hallowed rods.

But her wink unhinges this resolve re-steeled,
and his jester's scepter snaps

not once, but again and again.

The poet-fool is Someone's, who
teeters up the stones of toppled towers.

But her touch unglues this hubris troweled high,
and his bell-on-felt crown flops

not once, but again and again.

Sweet Someone coos, I want none of this,
and yet the poet-fool knows he does.

Knobs

Taut cheeks sadly stuck,
he twists twin knobs, dialing up
high-contrast displays

Bounder

Bounder souls ping-pong
along hopping paths, skip round
bottomless buckets