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to my yankee clipper
I lept forward
from the past
where you and me
played on time
me
a punch card
hanging onto a chad...
your sails bleached
following white weddings
poetic fiction
cuckoo clock stuck
we tick
excellece touched
yet
yoga fingers tapped
out
in worldly toppings
rubbing ruby slippers
traps no butterflies
and laddie's lamp
bought the moon
rings of picket fences
stabbed
spice of any brand
rakes the cinders
firebranded
I ink you to my senses
heaven whiffed
wafting
your hippy perfume
charm chances
myth aroused
white noise is tapping
chakra crazy
we waive a white
goodbye
maybe what was needed
was messy misfortune
everything bounces bubbles
I just learned how to blow
Oh, to cling like the barnacle to the steep rock,
bathe the coral strength with floating licks like slick seaweed,
coax the the trembling oyster to render up its pearl to be polished.
Oh, to lather deep coves with wet sweeps of adoration,
innundate the mangrove until it glistens with favor,
taste primal salt in the unfolding ripples of undulating flesh
as the Crest of Passion
washes into the face of the gasper
who swims on edge of a silken shore.
Oh, to savor puckered starfish
and urchin rimmed with white foam,
to stir the bowels of Merfolk
with sting of warfish and tentacled lust...
Oh, to balance the power of the sea
on the tip of the tongue!
cpyrt D. Hendricks