I was afraid if I set out

I was afraid if I set out
I should ne'er return,
That my fluid heart so shook about
For quicksand trophies would ever yearn.

Who would love me in the lonely fen?
The bluebird, the fox, the wild horse?
These woodlings have it all to them
To scavenge, where Nature left no course.

Byron etched his mark in ancient stone,
Matisse left a chapel by the sea,
Could these modern entageweorc
Outlast a mortal misery?

I shall seek moderation in the shade,
Beside sunlight, that falls between the glade.

I Follow Science

This is an hypothesis I found,
Pinched it off the ground,
(maybe 'twas one's discard)
And I've been testing it.

Don't think less of me
That this philosophy
Runs contrary
To your creature comforts,
It irked me too
Like my first Roquefort,
But it's growing on me.

It might pan,
Or I might leave it on new ground.

Professor

He got to he age when he wanted to lecture,
A silver-scalped half-moon monk among the prefecture
Of Eliot, Frost, Stevens, and Bishop.
And he stood at the lectern
And sought to elicit
Their metaphor, their pedagogy,
Maggie and May,
Milly and Molly.

Professor, I'll listen,
I promise to vigil
If you'll so reward me
At year's end epistle,

(But I know that there's something,
Wisdom or other, to tie me to them,
These legends, your brothers.)

It's Becoming October

It becomes October
To unravel breath in
Smoke bursts, like cannons blast.

A corporeal harvest moon
Commands Autumn, creeping reiver curst,
"Awake at last!"

Life is fleeting,
My heart is beating,
Your heart is beating faster,
Let's be each other's masters.

Quintet

These ladies don't pretend to know
The reason they're invited for.
The hosts attend their waiting guests
And slobber for a taste of sex.

The beer-pong table stands immortal,
More than wooden plank, a portal.
The girls step up to meet their partners,
Boys who scheme of team's departure.

Leaving bars and heading home,
Hounding for a doggie-bone,
I bark a bark and howl a whistle.
All's that's left is skin and gristle.

Slid off chastity, and then,
Inked above her thighs in pen:
"Will Not Do It, I'm No Slut,
You'll Have To Settle For The Butt."

The moon is down and rainfall lingers,
The sky submits to rosy fingers,
About the streets the sunlight shows
The shames of stranger bedfellows.

Blonde Reminds Me

What break effect have I had on you
That your hair shines a fret of gloss?
I kissed you then on a soused bed,
And since I have caved my loss.

Sport of Kings

These wounded soldiers on the table,
Couldn't finish, weren't able,
Swayed by a first year's--
Well, her blush, or not perhaps,
Perhaps her butt

The jacks and queens across the floor,
Spades and hearts, they are no more
Inserted in a beer can's top
'Til anticipated Jenga pop.

The jacks and queens across the floor,
Some to sleep before the dawn
-Those who couldn't crush no more-
Those who could, they got it on.