he is like a succulent fruit
irrigating furrows of dusty plains
that once gushed greenery thick and rich
my eyes tear up at the memories of
ravenous meals made of moans and squeals
sweet meats of yore
filling more than bellies
i cried out for the stars
mapping big dippers and a** whippers
the lot not enough
as if my void was limitless
like the sky
and if i could be his constellation
i would capture his Milkyway with spoons
cast by greedy hands
and bath my flesh with warm white happiness
spilled from his generous fountain
illuminated by the moon's smile upon ripe
pore's open mouths
hungering for a sip of heaven
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i lay down my words like
brush to paper
no need for edits
one cannot edit life as it
the imagery is by memory
as permanent as an etching on
acid-free pulp
the fiction is in the memory of
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let's trim some fat, skin the cat. it's over 100 years ago. she is at the river's edge with a bucket, retrieving water for non-Starbucks/Kurag coffee. She spies a man, pulling off BIG boots and shedding denim and suede, preparing to dip his manly figure into icy waters...

She clutches the handle as if it is the rail the rail of a very high ladder. She trembles as she watches him disrobe among the juniper trees...

there is no Trump or iphone or wifi. there is only the crisp air and trembling knees.
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a rare sighting of Most Ridiculous

a rare sighting of Most Ridiculous has been captured on the bogs. my hopes for a more ridiculous future can only be realized by the gentle fanning of it's delicate flames...
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spilled milk

i've been crying over spilled milk. like what's the point?
regardless, i've ordered Chinese.
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sold my horse for wheels but still feel
the saddle under me
heels down
trying to balance

the wind sweeps
but not everything sweeps
under cheap rugs
heels down, head up

i sold my horse for wheels
hands light, while i light a smoke
wind brushes my left cheek
window sucking smoke, exhaled

I sold my horse for wheels
i feel the saddle under seat
heels down, bracing for a wind
that sucks smoke from my lungs
riding the frontier of the unknown
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on this eve of many things

on this eve of many things
are you breathing heavely?
has the hint of romantic potential
clogged my arteries?
i must ignore
bullshit words of yore
my fingers dance over lettered tiles'
please clean up after
from the management short on managing
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A woman's breast is a trigger
A quote from TV
I contemplate
There is a dark cove
A teardrop enhancer embraced
As pupils enlarge
Gazing upon enlarged pupils
More than an eyebrow raise
As such a trigger launches heat seeking
And fingers are itchy for a squeeze
While heaving breasts press against
Nylon tethers
Passion gushing over cups half-full
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thanksgiving wrapped in tissue that rustles
hearts that are thawed on counter tops
With turkeys, sized to feed more than
Could offer forgiveness
At dressed tables, garnished with follliage
brought by new comers
Not aware of their welcome
I am not the usual, I think
To me, thanksgiving is an annual renewal of vows
To love and honor those we consider our friends
To forgive, as we discard the volt batteries every January
Must relationships be so difficult?
on this Thanksgiving
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buy 2 get 1 free

it's my day off. usually i don't go anywhere on days off. i try to only drive and burn gas on work days. i was low on smokes and being lazy, i turned the key and drove to the store. all the while i am belittling myself for this addiction

bear with me, hot flash...

so, while driving, all i could think about was fresh mussels and garlic butter...of course, upon entering the grocery store, i put a box of cinnamon rolls in my cart. they had been placed directly in front of the door...a luxury i couldn't refuse.

i went to the seafood counter and picked up the mussels. i then went to the frozen section for a vegetable. it was then that i saw the buy 2 and get 1 free for some pierogis. i had never eaten a pierogi until recently. it is a regional dish that wasn't served in CA, CO or MN. i had my first taste at a music festival. my PA friend couldn't believe i never ate one. i ate many that night and filed pierogi under "food i like". i picked up 3 boxes, all filled with something different.

the mussels smelled funny so i put them back. i have prepared my sourcream and chives pierogis and am satisfied and full.

i was beating myself up for being...i don't know...a loser..then i thought, i got out of the house, made a treat and am full, not hungry. that's something...
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in this small world

each of us touches someone. i find this amazing. the conflict between self-worth and the gifts of others makes the questions endless .
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greetings, peeps

what is the news? well, i found the sales position very stressful. i was doing alright but i felt that i didn't have the fortitude to perform this task at this time. you see, sales is all in the mind of the salesperson. it is confirmed, people don't like salespeople. this makes the task that much more formidable. they want million dollar writers. i'm not a million dollar writer. i respect boundaries too much.

because of me recognizing that i'm not fast enough to run with the big dogs, and my experience in seeing several customer service agents quitting, i put in my request to be a part of the customer service team. i got the job the same day and have been working that desk for 4 days. i must say, i feel a lot less stressed. my pay is regular. now, i do keep in mind that i had made more than the hourly wage, selling. over all, it's all the same. at least, i still qualify for benefits now, and i don't have to quit the sales job.

at the same time, i went through the struggles of the mind. did i make the right decision? could i have made enough in the Fall to pay for the next 5 months? i felt weepy, thinking of leaving the team. was told i was a traitor, laughingly. i responded "we're still on the same team!"

i learned, it's sad to leave any group that has an encouraging energy. i am sure to keep close to my comrades on the other side of the counter. i'm grateful to have others believe in me. maybe, someday, i'll believe in me. and sales and stuff will be less limited by what's in my head
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mcradloff: "Ghosts"(meet us in the poems)
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