On the Low Road with a Yogi

Thoughts of proximity and thoughts of distance

Like Ying and Yang, in an icy sense

Accost me, here, beneath my blanket.

In my pine-cone candle frosted with snow
Alas, the flame is barely aglow!
Frenzied twists stopped long ago;
But why? I had to know!

To my mistress of fancy, wise Yogi thus speaks:

“Carnal thoughts fan the flame
But carnal deeds extinguish it.

Look as well as listen, my dear!

Two strands of flax make twine

Just like the chant and tweet

that intertwine.”

When tomorrow she hikes a plane

and pauses to chirp "au revoir!"

a sugary bon-bon

I’ll begrudge.

"Now be a good sport," to me he whispers

"And for Pete’s sake, buy a new candle!", he
hisses."

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Popcorn and Pretzels

I wanna cock-a-doodle-doo

All over you

And butter the kernels

We germinate and pop

Lustily

Explosively

Spontaneously.

I wanna wrap my body around yours

And salt every pretzel we make

In sheets

In ovens

In foundries.

I wanna eat oodles of noodles with you

Make alphabet soup and spell …

together, forever and always!

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While Tripping with Alice on Alphabet Verse

The day’s toil and labor
supplies nothing for tomorrow
And the frugal mind has no time
To do-si-do with verse.

I’m sorry we must part at X
But Xerxes I’ll remember
And if not all his weaponry
Than yours and Malcolm X’s.

Thank you Alice for the chat
All the spittle, all the splat
I wish i had more time
For your specific rhyme.

I will honor the white man’s past
I will honor that of the slave
I will honor that which is good
That begins with honest sweat.

Go now lovely Alice
Sorry to delay you!
Grab the highest chair
In vitriolic spiel!

How greatly 'twould upset us
Oh to what extreme!
To see a seat made just for you
Go to a schlemiel!

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Tantric Departure
(a tandem Haiku poem*)

The ocean heaving
Mistress of the night leaking
Soft, silvery light

It’s blowing, snowing
I hear him knock at the door
The fires are glowing

Hi tide and low tide
For all time, a see saw ride
The ocean is he

At the door he stands
I, in garments sent ahead
Chosen by his hands.

She at eventide
tosses her nightie aside
Insatiable moon

At the pelvic gate
I, the force of his plough take
Rocking it slowly.

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