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Thirty Minutes in Repose
(Comment Poem #142)
Though rested he invested
thirty minutes in repose
busy sketching and kvetching
the planes, curves and angles of his lines.
Such payment would cement
eons of acknowledgement and reference,
his art to impart
eternity after all for any
who strive while alive
to be more than immediate.
Those red crosshatches instead
of vacuous spans between borders,
specifying intersection and connection
conjoining the was, is and will be-
he may half-heartedly say
it’s just a drawing.
He might make light
of his tastefully tucked nude sprawl.
But histories often contain mysteries
frequently solved by abrupt hieroglyphics
and charcoal figures on cave walls
drawn without the aid of daylight,
causing gracious pausing
as if the audience will be ever mourning
after whatever laughter it candidly makes.
Forever is easy to remember.
He contended as intended
and digitized his efforts,
for sharing and bearing equally endless.
Refrained from View
(Comment Poem #140)
his lumbar on the pillow, his skull
against the oak headboard,
and then Josh drifted -
into sleep, into daydreams
classified by their watercolor overlays
and somnambulant orchestrations.
Josh reamined motionless,
missing the strokes,
the brushing of his parts,
rendering him as was, a boy
in bed with no clothes, napping
as if present participle
were a state of being
and art an act of recording
moments when his cock
refrained from view.
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