Author: wd

i cant guarantee im always around, but when i am, consequences will never be the same.

Video: prey

A Visual Poem

Produced in 2011 //wd

Transcript:

tell me a story.

tell me a story about a life.
about a life and a death.
a story about a man from within
from within,
where a body becomes a flower
and a tree becomes its prey.

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up your efforts

A poem.

i’m sitting in her truck
as she drives through an expanse
and i’m hopelessly stuck,
watching for the tells on her face.
my love is late.
my dreams always end this way.

tick tock anticipating,
still staring at a big stupid screen
with Sinéad stuck in the CD player
that needs to be replaced
but these days there isn’t anywhere else
for me to be.

cant get away, rolling
over myself again,

relentless, blistering, reddening –
an early Spring and long-passed petaling,
her ride, her music i’m listening,

lording
how many times before have i
fallen on my sword
because i was bored?
how many afternoons past with plans on plans to get
on track
only to find my way back?
more than the fingers
and toes and
Geppetto’s nose & cock can count.

life wears its hair how one likes just to spite
with a perfect white smile which bites.

//wd 7.29.2023

Photo by Mehmet Turgut Kirkgoz on Pexels.com.

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lick rich

A poem for CME.

yummy yummy ladies on my screen,
more than McLuchan could have foreseen,
smouldering my sensibilities like raw limonene
being rubbed in bare, bewitched eyes
in a Ludovico machine.

i’ve never ridden in the back of a limousine
snorting coke off a celebrity’s caboose.
unlucky me.
but every day if i so choose,
i can watch the car-hobby show they produced
with that chick who specializes in rust repair
who was only seventeen when that episode aired
but now that she’s eighteen, she doesn’t care
if those bikini selfies of hers’ are out there?

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