Two Poems
Rich Murphy Smarty Pants The window to the soul coordinates smart for mates who weeded out lust and lies from the garden remains. At first the troubadours tumbled from horses onto mandolins and cities in the West hurried out to buy glass panes for organ pouches. Each viewer found that falling from hormonal heights into coffee grounds, the lover awakens to pragmatic routines that demand attention. The chirp and buzz from kitchen appliances teach while secreting glands taunt. The passion that dissipates into an oxytocin memory also drools over fantasies and drips into weekend hobbies. Just as just, the synchronized limping team from yesteryear looks in two classroom pupils. The perverse behavior between science and capitalism when meeting in the crowded streets pokes out eyes: After waiting an epoch, humans see. Body Politics The dictator sits in the genome with a short story and a long pointer. Skin wraps up skeletal narrative in denial: Happy Birthday until hapless dirt day. At the embryo launch site witnesses anticipate with gifts, legends, hopes, and wishes. Not long after the orbiting parents tire, the sun puts up with weather and cosmic forces. Will goes about the day using an index finger to accuse various enemies hiding in the landscape: “Bang bang drop dead,” the externalist says and jogs everyday rain or shine. But even the evil doers outside the body feast at the Metabolism Bistro. Meanwhile, inside the family gene pool, big fish chomp on small fish or vice versa with a rhythm that tells time for bomb experts who try to haul out water wings and the shrimp. Who among neighbors would dare go for a swim? When given an opportunity the tyrant stands on organ music and tips over a domino in a ribcage or cranium for denouement.
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