Sleeping Beauty’s Proxy

With a smoke so thick it cast shade.

The devil in his Archie Bunker chair.

And, I in my tabletop rocker.

I knew…I had been made.imageedit_9_6953307773

With the grin of broken, red tainted, golden arches.


And, offerings of Girl Scout Cookies and Moxie.

I knew…more dues need be made.

I knew sleeping beauties…were just a proxy.




The color blind tattoo artist knows best about the matters at hand.

The vacancy sign owner, he would understand.

And, of course,

the lesbian porn star with no use of her fingers…

she would see the bigger plan.

The single blade of kelly green grass,

blowing in a solitary speck of northeast wind,

it  has held it’s ground since the gods’ created sin.

Above this blade of grass,

atop an elderly tree,

lives a well seasoned leaf.

The ancients have spoken of these people…these uneven events.

The vendor who promotes disfigured slot machines…missing one arm.

He is akin to this no see ’em charm.

It is the kind of poetry  found at an unmanned farm.

A recipe handed down,

dog eared in dusty nooks.

The kind of stuff that deserves a second look.

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