Emotions flicker constantly crackling across her steaming sub-cranial cauliflower to burst through a luscious churning valve with cherry-red trim My gray-matter melts to angel-hair in Alfredo sauce ½ cup, still plenty salty testing my dam of gritted teeth When her valve clamps shut eyes wide open perpetuate the echo oh the joy! (silence my mental emulsifier) . . . . or the horror for a she-mind never sleeps wide awake The most flammable fuel for the imagination A silent gorgeous woman leaving me to burn in uninhibited passion searing guilt or a mysterious fear Tex DeJésus ©2011
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
A Moment of Silence
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
03/09/11
* 03/09/11
Breakfast in New England
where the diner doesn't buzz
but rumbles and crashes
a vocal thunderstorm
the gray clouds are gathered
five old men at a table
blood spots on their wrinkled
cheeks and scalps
white crown molding
in-between
here comes bitter lightening
they rant
against the machine
“America doesn't have balls anymore”
say things to the waitress
sexual harassment
if they weren't grandfathers
“What came first, the chicken or the egg?”
they start over again
at the beginning.
Tex DeJésus ©2011
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
How They Roll
Spring is overdue
in New Hampshire
a coffee shop
is refuge
in the a.m.
watching the groggy
slide past
the storefront
alone
in insulated
snail shells
worth half
their salaries
escargot
of the gods
of Wall Street.
Tex DeJésus
in New Hampshire
a coffee shop
is refuge
in the a.m.
watching the groggy
slide past
the storefront
alone
in insulated
snail shells
worth half
their salaries
escargot
of the gods
of Wall Street.
Tex DeJésus
Monday, March 14, 2011
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
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