gary lundy

in the painting sex seeks a hidden meaning.

disparate images forced together through will of knife. you lounge in late afternoon sunlight. rip fabric in to for ideas. pasted similes and eyes that don’t belong. there is a laziness embroiled among us. we sit alone along opposite walls. retell singular stories that fight for meaning. clouds bear a stark likeness to our fondling hands. bangs outwit the law of opposites. you now course through my blood. again remind of slow motion monotony. while i place it outside its resident site. to better understand location. locomotion. later we sigh deep breaths of resignation. a stranger knocks loudly on the front door.

it can’t be all right. all the blood

letting. down by the sea of chairs. in a kitchen. or living room. how marvelous the color. red. in the night you send stark messages to a friend. seek release. in spite of mounting desires i swim currently safe. to feed the stabilizing bar of reenvisioning. stoop low. yearn deep in knee high fantasy. along the way you coin an over used phrase. stuff praise atop the refrigerator. stiff. plummet sirens down a street. meaning. recently i acquire a new set of rule breaking. seek after some sort of conversion. a language out played. street dive nose tag. a flurry of painting words. atop redundant images. a kind of love lust loss. for all i know you’re still alive. wandering. when i ought to be preparing. i write sequined skirts on dancing boys. scarlet clouds against an abandoned building. windows. surplus prepositions fight against flight. no where to be seen. circles of sleepless. it was the mistake you make. assuming i would want to read your thoughts. as behaviors. in a foreign untouched tongue.

my body calls today.

to stay. put up a fight. to stay less clean. feet with their smiling smell. calluses and deformed nails. to never again think to occur to remember. you. govern direction from dance and toes. it is a wrong voice that speaks. out of indifference. a consumes silence. a sound as little as an unexplained explosion. of light. sit completely still. listen as windows blare their song. of promise. a mirror barks orders. distills moments into gratuities. this book plays a dangerous game. of checks and minuses. we walk along the store fronts. pretend to afford luxurious. in the night repetitions. one promise broken shards of glass on the floor. among discarded words. and an other. and an other. birds still wire sing. chirp of chirped pleasure. i do what i don’t want to do. leave for a place empty vacant faces. to leave becomes only. what can be more quiet than sunday morning city. your smile. two cars drive by. i pretend smoke rings. sixty-six degrees of insurmountable.

© gary lundy

View guest contributor gary lundy’s bio HERE


Jamie Dedes is a Lebanese-American poet and free-lance writer. She is the founder and curator of The Poet by Day, info hub for poets and writers, and the founder of The Bardo Group, publishers of The BeZine, of which she was the founding editor and currently a co-manager editor with Michael Dickel. Ms. Dedes is the Poet Laureate of Womawords Press 2020 and U.S associate to that press as well. Her debut collection, "The Damask Garden," is due out fall 2020 from Blue Dolphin Press.

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