A & B

Logic is between A & B
and everything else is Imagination

Pot Roast

the beauty of the
             tender taste
                  of roast

lay before us
              much as anything
                        across a universe

potatoes, carrots, onions
garlic

where all are better
                so we think
                           than us

we believe in unknowns
                 and search their truths
                 fight and love for these same
                                                           ways

potatoes, carrots, onions
garlic


but here accede
                  they all assimilate
                  in every way
                          every time
          we play

Art of Love - Important Moment

when love stands
like a cherry
               in frontal nude
looking at you


what will you do

stand there and let her
pass
        take this taste
she is here
                only for now

move

Art of Love -- Helen

 just making love to her, such alone destroyed Troy

Woman Ironing

each flap flipped
methodically pressed
hand against iron
strength firm and wrought
contained in tempered warmth





determined gaze
she
steadies between
her folded draperies
artfully hung as emblems
of this woman
                       her craft


each diligent stroke
smoothing ripples
folding ever against
colors laundered 
                           with wear
formed with palettes
                           forever
standing in still life
a distant vision 
                            time
sketched in painted motion

Baked Potato

we use to use tin foil
but now we use
paper towel

i am uncertain of this tradeoff
since both consume resource

and with nine billion
multiplying exponentially,
we need to think of this

burning issue

Art of Love - Part VI

i have bought
and got time
but i'll be damned
if i will buy
and get nothing



a woman that continually
flirts
will find the wrong man

her nothing

Art of Love - Part V

it is one thing to love
one thought can change everything

in one short eye sighted vision,





it is a thing to love
there is no drug more powerful
it fixes anything

except love

only one

i remember this movie where children
a boy and girls
play amongst each other until adulthood,
and then they part
and one dies and then another
and in the end, there is only one

and that one has all the memory
of everyone

Perfect Dawn

it is the context
often face,
the energy and age
its wisdom
         and curiosity
the perfect
          telekinetic stare
thirty-one years
i would never have imagined
have come this way
and left

Confusion 101

longhairs should never lean
for too long
above burning candles

Eternal

with time
or its blink,
treasure
will succumb

the reason for I

written word has evolved to where it is clear there is no need for capitalizing the first letter of every sentence, for it has already been defined by the period before, or the beginning of everything in the form of title and class, which matters little. capitals should be used to emphasize importance, and what is that - the unspoken meaning of a papered thought. one does not capitalize voice and one should never capitalize Self except in proclamations.

desert

poetry is like walking in a desert

heaven is now

the objective of life is to find its meaning
and its discovery assures nothing

shared will never be understood
because we are not what we think

denying heaven is now

Alien Translation

dusk in the harrow
its darkness
raging against machines
forging man's pomposity
feruling
creatures of lust
twined to tastes

pale is this head
anointing such thought
re-creante
of Thine

but truth persisting
and beyond death
devouring all
that is yours


-----Original Message-----
From: Friend
Sent: Wednesday, June 06, 2012 9:01 PM
To: Ovidd

Penultimate dusk in the harrowing seas of rage against the
machine forged through man's pomposity.  Feral in the beginning
of night; the creatures of lust are bound to twines of
forbidding tastes. Devourer of soul's energy, all that cannot
be seen by the sentient eyes are bring scrutinized with angst
and anger. 

Pale green light anoints the head with  new thoughts as if the
mind was recreating the brain in its own image. And woe but
true as the drippy membranes envelop and taste of night
creatures in the grassy sculptor's apprentice Linotypes obits
to next of kins in the mothman and hopper grass families.

All are food; be it thought or thoughtlessly Delicious and
Malicious but mightily ingestible.

Art of Love -- Diane de Poitiers

Your nails poised
perfectly where pearls
lie touching


You settled in my lap
black on silver
their exquisite match
against lamp shaded
elegant lounge fire
always wanting
is this Picture

It

love

you, i felt You

spreading before me
devouring without thought,
Everything there was
without consequence

making love,,

felt like spring
for a moment
in the midst
of summer

i cannot stop licking
this Honey of Then

tasting
what was
of anything that was
of Anything,

devouring

without thought
everything

One

have you ever seen that lonely
one that is always alone,
they usually disappear to many
but have you noticed?

being god
must feel something like that

Where Are WE?

When i stand between oaks
and press hard
the wood sways not

two fowl may follow,
one the other,
each in great ways

never achieving anything