[lit-ideas] Sunday Poem

        ORIENTAL I'S


             Dawn.

At 5 a.m. I wake.  What does it take
to get a drink in this place?  The woman I was toying with
has fled the scene, I'll never have another dream like that one.
My life has come undone, I see that now like a big eyed owl.
I am the spit out fur and bones of my own devouring.

          

          Noon

Sun buzzing like a wasp at the window
of opportunity. Aggiornamento!   
Ah, the sea breeze!
See spawn and see wrack. Cut me some slack,
I can't read these signatures. 
The wasp at the window 
is confused,
it followed the cues,
where is the nest?
where will he rest?
It circles, flies off, flies back 
following the track
over and over again.
I flap my wings and go on working.


      
            Dusk


She pulled her hair across her face
hid there
waiting for me to find her.
Shucking corn in September,
my hands are tough as the husk
the softness of corn silk confuses me.
I come back to the fields alone.


         Night

Walking home in misty-moisty,
blurs of red and green and colors in between,
I stop to touch a street light pole.
Hug it.  Kiss it.  Whisper in its ear:
Thank you for being, sweet being. Tee hee.
Ah, life is rife with gratitude when you've dined on wine.
Overhead, ten quintillion stars shine their love for me.
I embrace them all.
Happy to be God.
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