"Red, a subjective substance in an objective shell..."
A cat -- under the brush -- listens
to a Cardinal -- against a lush
landscape -- slurring a sobering scat.
I do not want to be red.
A string of drool elongates
from the bull's muzzle as his
front right hoof repeatedly stamps
the ground. Nearsighted --
and from the other side
of the fence -- does he see
my eyes like photographed ones
glowing red? Or does he see these veins
threading my now-skittish eyes?
Photo: in a she-she hush-hush
gay-friendly hotel, my lover poses for me
on New Years Eve in Lyon
flash reddens-out his eyes
as he stops making our post-lovemaking
and temporary bed the first day of...
I can't remember the year. I can't remember
his friend's name -- the one
who took a head shot of us -- either:
fired-up clouds inhibit the flash
blacken out our faces
except for my right eye glowing red.
The Boogie Man's more frightening
to a child whose parents say "you cannot
because you might get hurt"
and the phrases debilitating recklessness
and reckless debilitation
will be a reality for this child
as a grown-up who'll attract danger
and recognize it as romance
like a kerosene lamp in a hay barn.
A pansy seed left the gazebo
and it allows rain...
No, not allows. Allows implies control.
A red flower -- a pansy
of grass -- is trampled by the man.