greenrosedheart

Matter
by Michael Workman on Tuesday, August 10, 2010 at 4:07am

it's sharp to be embraced
by an all-digital wetness
well past intercourse
where interconnected lights are small
each a massless mite enshrined in unreflecting glass
that transects the mind like
a quick punch.

in a torpid dusk of smoke and mire
smiling, encased in blue border, black margin
surrendered in a limited horizon
no matter if the dogs bark
(what dogs?).

sex is no matter, but a lot of money
a whole, empty sack of liquid ligands
perching and bending to our vanilla whim
and spinning by the boatload
we dash against the giddy helm
like bodies.