Between Legs And Logs
leaning forward
into the monitor,
the back legs of my office chair,
deserving a metaphor,
something on the lines of:
'erect like the asses of my lover',
left the ground like captain antilles.
i peered
-no-
i searched for the answer.
skimming blogs
and googling
recently deceased poets
anthems,
their bios.
anything i could glean.
the lyrics from odelay
silver mooned
artwork hung
off the skirt of a thirty
something teeny
telling me she
wanted cum tonight
i want some too
but something purer
than one night tripe.
-inspiration-
i jogged under the weight of loneliness
hoping to release the endorphins
and write firework splashes of poetry
so i released my
euphoric state on the pavement
dud.
God was watching on a fold out
chair as i went into the bathroom
at the community pool and jerked off
He could have touched my robe
and i would have
proselytized reams of parody.
instead he tripped my avatar
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poem by Walter Burns
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