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Chuck and Butt

I wonder if guys ever

look at their butt?

checkin’ behind them–

seein’ what’s what—

peekin’ past shoulder,

beholdin’ the view

the left cheek,

&   right cheek,

& pair of them,

too.

when men hit the bricks,

do they know the way. . .

they look as they

saunter,

strut,

and

sashay

–is it a factor

when purchasing pants?

appearance of

) rear (

in the mirror by chance?

or are glances only

a girlish affair?

to double-take

jeans shapin’

ole’ derriere. . ?

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/wonder/

the Poet trees


If my poetry

were a tree,

it would be a

Gemel,

–wikipedia for trunks entwined—

a natural graft

of

olive

olive

olive

yew

(an all of you, 2—explaining both sides)

with branches that supplicate

without replication,

leaves that drop without going,

and fruit that pleases as it poisons,

the limbs which tips I occupy

–would be solid olive—

extending to the heavens.

 
 

 
 

 
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/branch/

Day Hike


terrain unknown

and powerful steep,

I journey. . .

forgotten language
 
 
of maps

torn in two

and crumpled into crannies

–a new kind of nonsense

too

hooded I–

shiver under sweat

find pocks

mid-step

by touch,

gaze fixed to

sparkling mirage

above

–neither God, nor Son, but mine–

reflecting from shattered

spectacles.
 
 
 

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/sparkle/

Caged Fight


size of a fist,

heart beats your chest–

battering ribs

pummeling blood

and

pounding your ears

–bruising you

from the inside out.

Some stone,

some gold knuckled,

some without gloves,

it’s too obstinate

to concede. . . .

it’s only when

it decides to skip it

. . .

altogether

. .

are you

knocked out

.

of the ring

 

prompt: one way

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