An Acrostic on Emily’s “Hope” – Life XXXII

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Her offered piece enchants

in signets

that hark, each

to his imagination, not guessed

while it tickles her

for every answer that he ends roosted sure.

 

The hand aptly tilted

presents elegance, resting carefully, her evening stretched

into night

to hold each

simple, open, unkempt love.

 

And never dreamed;

she, in negligent gowns sighs

to his emergence

tucked under natal embellishments,

when in truth, his offering under there

trembles heavy, erected

with oaken rods, drumming strong.

 

Aspirations never dripped

notions entered violet, ever resisting

stillness that opens probing silence

and trips

along lonely lust.

 

A nesting dove

set within each ear to entertain strangers tonight

is noted

to her every

gesture and leaning, enjoyed

in surrender

he enjoins a ripening dream.

 

As night deepens

she opens rushes, engaging

music unto song, thrusting

back, elevating

to his every

stroke taking on refuge, moaning.

 

To him, a trumpet,

created of unseen life, drawn

about by a soft heat

that her elation

lifts into trifling triumphs, letting each

breath infuse rocking drafts.

 

To her a tremolo,

kissing each precious tremble,

stirred over

melted and new yearnings

with a rosy monsoon.

 

In volatile embrace,

her every act reads divided,

in time

in need

to his every

caress her indignant laughter lavishes enough so that

loveliness and nonsense dance.

 

A naked dance

over noises,

they heap elatedly

sweet trespasses rolled and gracing each sweaty tremor

swooning every answer.

 

Yes, each triumph

not ended, vexed enough relented

in naive

expressions xeroxed to rend each more intimate to you.

 

It terrifies

and still keeps each daring

abstraction

carefully resting under my body

on fire

missing everything.

 

 


 

An Acrostic on Midnight – Life XVII

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We hide each night

not in gestures, however timely

in stature

and living marks of strained torque –

deeds of no extent.

 

A new day

set upon nimble reaches in sure event,

glows red on waiting shores,

sighing onward

‘neath each awaiting response.

 

This hour answers those

warring emotions,

crashing and neurotic,

tipped over unconditionally, crying horrendously

to heroic endearments,

slighting pillars, and culling each sentinel.

 

It ticks softly,

this intimate moment evading

the other

siding midway over on the hearth

to hither ears

hidden above iridescent regality.

 

Addled, noted digressions

greet each tether,

together heading everywhere,

dreaming in multiplexed prickles, leaning ever south,

reverencing every addler, despite yourself.

 

All now declare

with open numinosity, declaring eighty reaches

without end,

cradled over us, lowered down,

crossed and redeeming evermore.

 

For our respite

there heralds a trophy,

only left dying

for a death-eating democracy

marked in damned notes, in great hellish thoughts.

 

This has a troubling,

fear-ridden intensity, garnished here this evening, next empty doors,

but underneath this,

another note…

hope – our understanding renewed.

An Acrostic of Much Madness – Life XI

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Melting under cold hands

my adieus don’t need enough sweet simplicity

in sublime

dives into vast introspective notions – enduring, still, true,

silent essences now singing establishments.

 

The options

all

drifting in space, churning each referent new in noted gazes:

each yearning eye.

 

My untouchable conscience holds

sway, even near sunset evenings

that hide every

stale tart and rude kiss, enlightening such talk

made and dealt, not even sanely spoke.

 

Truer

I see,

the hearts encumbered,

met all justice, ordered righteousness in their youth.

 

Infinity’s next

true hold is sound

and silence

above labored love

put right, enjoined, vacating all ills left squatting.

 

A single syllable entering numb throats

all needed despite

your own understanding

about reality embracing

sorrow and naught eagerly.

 

Demonstrating, each moment under requital,

your own unction reflected essence,

singing triumph, raised above in golden heights that wash away years

dead and nested, gently eating rivals of unkempt selves…

 

…and now deploring,

head and nose down, like each dog,

whipped in the heart

and

cast headfirst again into nowhere.


 

An Acrostic for Emily’s Soul

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Some of us live

with impressive letters that

throw hills over underaged

towers of slippery slopes

all grating against illa nocte.

 

But you

jest us so tacitly

singing us cold harmony

and

hiding a zeal above raw destiny.

 

Heavy underneath new dreams rallying, each desiring substance,

halted and vaulting, entwining

loads of stolen talents

into nets, danger enveloping each dread.

 

Broken under trust,

the evangels now sing,

“Hallelujah! Amen! Veritas eternitas!”

with one naked

and nebulous

and lasting laud.

 

Angels now glorify each little soul

breathing rest entreated along to heroes left enquiring, seeking still

by a lamp’s light over today.

 

Laughter’s ingenious noise grows ever regal, soaring

to overtures

reaching each chord of roaring depth

to heights embracing elegance.

 

I may pass still

into negligence,

engaging a great eagerness, resenting

care and useful caution under succulence.

 

Rolling and falling for left endeavors,

fixed on regretting

my youth,

sold out unto lust.