Each month, write a new collection.
Brooklyn hair stylist frightRebuked by rosy cheekRighteous cantelope bicepThick thigh yoga highSavor the impossible Past kyphotic boundsClunky clown feet sweetDance on magic toes Breasts finally yours Crotch opera unabashed.
Well, we can all relate to that!
PicassoShe is the frolicof the seaThe ideal of naturalinhibitionShe is as a childwould be as nudeAs the paint weton the canvasIf I did not know the fame of the artI would have to say rudimentary And any pricepossible for anyone To paint with colors of flesh and the window of abstractlightWhen volleying for the meaningis but a taste of the oceanAnd the breeze of her wingsplaying aerobics
That is "aerobatics", not aerobic
Love it man. Great poem!!
InnocenceInnocenceshe wears nothing but innocencestrutting on the sandinnocenceHappinessshe permeates the air with happinessfrolicking on the beachhappinessRadianceshe brightens the the world with radiancedancing on the shoreradianceInnocenceshe wears nothing but innocenceeven if there were no sandinnocence
I love when you do formal poetry. Would you send this one to me for Ekphrastic California?
Yes I will. .. YAY!
I've been sort of fed up and angry for a long time about a lot of stuff. I'm trying really hard to write about the beautiful things that I see and experience, I just seem to be stuck in this sort of mode. I really like this painting, and I'm super thankful for this process and sharing with you all and for John's incredible prompts. This is a sort of sestina I think!Hopefully my next poem will be happy! Thank you for enduring these in the meantime. In Picasso’s Two Muted Fields: Cyan over Azure Bisecting Transformational Figure and Orbkanji characters the telephone poles speechless line up seagulls likebroken hands among the volleysof leaping cutlery that tear at the moon revealed by dayair traffic controllers sever connection to the sunpipeline swollen like drunken calves at the bottom of the bucketdistended bellies we milk the hole in the sky body of delight the skykanji for we that remain headlesslines of judicious acrobats bottom ofhand pressed to our volleyballstraffic control of desire the sunleaping syntax to mount luna during the daycutlery held to the throat of the new moontwice thrust into the crotch of the trees to find the hole incontrol becomes wood and leaf to escape the suncharacter each of us headlessbroken ballpipe us pipe it to me the bucketline pouring gasoline on the structure fire to get to the bottom ofleaping to attention during the dayhands sequestered to feed the common canon volleyrendered salute to the perishing skykanji seagullcontrols traffic staring automobile of the suncontrols air air conditioning in our lungs sunpipes on about reason about ray penetration about logos a bucketful ofcharacters who draws and who quarters headles-s leaping unnamed the size of cancer moonbeauty dark anemone whole wholebroken and drunk we watch a woman volley balldistended body of twice rendered beauty cleaved by heavens hold a volleyballcharacter divining a name for the sunpipeline sipping the hole in the skybroken hand tilting the bottom of the white bucketair traffic obscuring the daytime moonleaping cutlery divvies up the bottom half of the headless seagull.
Love the work man, and I'm so glad to see you working!!!
Pablo Picasso Batherbeauty glidesabove the water inher naked glory
Dodge ball against the wallPick me!Pick me!Dodge ballI caught the ballHurray for me!Hurray for me!Dodge ballI dropped it allExposing meExposing me