A Couple Poems (March 2015)
by Jen "Erect Joy" Monknun
Craving the peaceful life
A soft wet doughnut filled with plain fruit,
A perfect disc white light behind the rippled clouds.
A lot of color dripping off of the body hands.
A concentration
There has been too much concentration of pleasure ... and here the subsequent dispersal.
The clovers lay limp in one gentle hand.
My middle nail got ripped and there's an eye looking back out of that red hole.
The eye says see and see and see and see and see.
I see me
And the honed crazy eye looks over with its rays of seeing,
Six fountains of the pure elixir of God, raining into each other every which way.
The bottom ones are filling and filling, but never overflowing.
The pleasure is baked into form without cancer.
Finely balanced, the limp clover leafs sprout up with the delicate woven threads of life
Six blossoms spew their rich fluid up and out!
The human hand grasping the roots, breathing spiritual essence up and out
And back in through a hidden back door, then up and out and in.
How do I open my heart properly to this creature of flame and lightning
Fireball tornado of love and fear.
Be on the Action Block, next to Chatsworth Fire Station, which is next to the Police Station.
A twinge of regret a dozen hands reaching out with flowers
Material Work
What is this essence of trial and muscle,
What with rounded briars winding,
Around perfect eyes seeing in and through
Material Happiness
Gleeful hot tubs swimming with amorphous essences of human personality!
Nests splashing
Lightness gone amuck
Looking at pins on the map and imagining places
Sprouting shoots of glory
Valor
Seeing the shadows and seeing through them to the other side. To let them see their own dark masses and fizzle through them transparent.
A mouth dry with thirst but prevailing through the shadows towards the open hole.
Cold whispering betrayal running out and down
Down the tubes into the earth and rocking itself to sleep.
A twinge of regret is melted into a candy bar,
And eaten quickly,
To be digested and shit out,
Hopefully with very little reassimilation.
The lady stands in the road and looks forward into the lense,
Her hand carelessly on her forehead and in her hair,
A young buck lapping water at her feet.
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