GAIL ENTREKIN : Celebration and Lament
CHARLES P. RIES : Erotic Geography
MAX HELENLADY : empty poetry
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All the fine arts are species of poetry--Samuel Taylor Coleridge

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Klimt: The Kiss, 1907-08
Klimt: The Kiss,...
Gustav Klimt
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Celebration and Lament Erotic Geography empty poetry

Celebration and Lament

Young men, chosen almost at random,
penetrate the bodies of our daughters
and the daughters, those long-haired beauties, enter the water in which we all 
have swum.

Some jump awkwardly from the wall,
arms and legs flailing, hit with a splash, and some, like my daughter, remove
their glasses, place them carefully on a safe ledge, slip between the waves with
surprising aplomb, sleek and easy as porpoises skimming the blue sheets.

And all of them come up swimming,
some dog paddling till they get the hang of it, some stroking free style in perfect 
rhythm, turning their heads to take in air, their eyes unfocused, their bodies intent 
on the activity at hand.

Lined up on the cliffs,
we cannot (and should not)
really see, but we have
 our own memories
of floating and sinking,
diving and rising back up
to the visible world.

From the GAIL ENTREKIN''s book Rearrangement of the Invisible 
(Poetic Matrix Press, 2012)

I have many things to write unto you but I will not write with pen and ink
--JOHN the theologian

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Celebration and Lament Erotic Geography empty poetry

Erotic Geography
Reclining after sex I turn toward the south as day's final light floods in over the hips and breasts of my Mexico. Coal black hair, red lips and brown eyes. She satiates me into silence and I willingly dissolve into her olive colored thighs. A full woman whose face glistens like polished copper in morning light. A soft still snow falls around us and, but for her lips, we would be invisible in a cloud of white. Dry gullies, morning mists and dusty streets speak to us in the soft whispers of old lovers, who communicate more with raised eyebrows than young lovers do in breathless paragraphs. Red rose petals and white doves fly out of her mouth. An image of Our Lady of Perpetual Tears appears on the pavement before us in an oil stain looking curiously like Our Lady of Guadeloupe. I kneel down before it and kiss my virgin queen in her guise of street black stain. Mariachis in silver studded, skin tight black pants sing us a hymn and then a lover's ballad for five pesos. Angels whisper to us in Spanish as Mexico slips her tongue between my cold white lips and offers me sweet water from her full ample breasts.
Poetry endangers the established order  of the soul - Plato

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Gustav Klimt Fir Forest II Art Print Poster
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Celebration and Lament Erotic Geography empty poetry

empty poetry
their words were choppy and broken like the waves of the ocean. they stood torn, and filled with great sorrow. minds vacant and empty hoping that the thought still lingered. "why oh why oh horrible me" they muttered and sputtered with words that emptily rhymed. no thought, no feeling, yet they wonder why no one listens i listened, and i thought it was CRAP.
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GAIL ENTREKIN : Celebration and Lament
CHARLES P. RIES : Erotic Geography
MAX HELENLADY : empty poetry

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