deus ex erotica

pears, peaches, plums
God from a machine, reaching forward and passing
a round of jelly beans to the children waging war in the street
Shock value; descended from a spiral staircase
without warning and without expectation

a Vision, an Image, a Painted description, not entirely New
a Vase, an Icon, a Perfect imperfection—an anomalous fraction of
this conglomeration of Angelic cybernetics
a Singular and Individual muse—an admission of a mission laid into submission
—cause of, solution to, in respect of—
typography grows insufficient; inspiration will not be subjected to
such malicious intent as to lay it to ink on cloth
Dream of inconsequential consequences—nonsensical sensory reactions
Tingle in every fiber of every molecule of Living
each Blood particle leaping to Life, due to

pears, peaches, plums
plucked from uncertainty and bathed in cool waters of disillusion
and distilled emotion—now pure, now instinctual
Round, smooth, chilling—calmness detected

Silent wall erected
Mouth and Mind connected
by initial confession to oneself of
Wait—I didn’t
No—I couldn’t
That—that wasn’t intended—
but the Green sea I’m lying in will not allow rest,
but restful wakeness and wakeful restness

pears, peaches, plums
succulent, seductive, signifying Eros’ capture
in a versatile and implied being
baffling senses, leaving only two left untold
Touch—a longing
Taste—an extended period of longing
followed by
a Time for reflection
in a pool of eyes—

clear, clean, close

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