words of a people aligned in their perfect order
the flowers are yours.
>
wrapped bloom
naked,
plucked ripe,
full,
stripped.
>
to be virginal
>
and honeyed
in tactile, close
. . eye’d
. . sensations
. . and warm, full
inhalations,
pressing close
>
between your breasts.
>
– Hoc Scripsi
>
I stayed up late for this one last night and I am not sure it was worth it. but there it is. – Jhon
Still missing my wife – another poem from the recently published “gypsy bars...” (go to published page for download or click link for scribd if you wish)
vagaries and kitchen tile tangos
for K
I am St. Juan Grande Pecador in this new life;
unpredictably weeping and loving,
writing poetry and song.
so wantonly tired and worn but not sleeping.
sad that I cannot sleep next to you,
sad that I cannot sleep at all.
I think how I have loved you.
in morning and night,
I think how I love you.
I am St. Juan Grande Pecador
sitting in the sun, contemplating
the vagaries of kitchen table conversation
– Hoc Scripsi
for Kara
my love
my wife
eleven years and more
we keep the lawn trimmed
without concern
weeds grow in the flower garden
and we
still without concern
dishes pile in the sink
and coffee spills on the linoleum
but no concern
we love
in love
no concern
easy love
beautiful love
no concern
– Hoc Scripsi
Kara, my baby, my love,
I miss you so much that my heart beats irregular.
my body feels wrapped in plastic.
I long and in longing feel misplaced.
every moment away I realize our love immeasurable.
– your melancholy man
This poem is better represented in the now available copy of ‘gypsy bars, back alleys and one way streets‘ from Free Penny Press. Download your own copy – link to it on FB and Google+ – tweet it – nominate for various prizes and print copies to hand out to friends and lovers.
you are my own brother
– For MC
you are my own brother.
my AIDS stricken angel.
a heartbreak.
2.
I’ve come to find
I’ve always loved you
and out love flow thick
through shared veins.
could I promise you a rose garden?
or no, a field of daisies and sunflowers.
3.
you cannot help but be beautiful
and lovely
in summer hats
still dancing
under umbrellas in the rain.
– Hoc Scripsi
the platitudes of willful resemblance 