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Mines of Reverie

Posted on 03/06/202006/06/2020 by Dean English

a carting-horse.
engraving minor morse
from mines of reverie

____________________
I have little, for a man of 50
with his faculties intact,
yet it is quite a lot. I leave
the house unlocked

and the heart—
while opening smoothly
like a red sunrise
under clouds
it closes pretty quick
so watch your fingers

climbing into my house.
all else, within the mystery,
I am content
to not know. I rest
in not knowing

.

the mind, while not a colander
filters faux from fact —ridiculously
easy, so
why is this a common
difficulty?
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

I was, to say
to writers bearing doubt,
a rooting drunk, wrote
drinking only, didn’t have
a poem without
a drink. couldn’t take
a drink
without a toke.
took a punch
more than once
—any livid street scene

women or philosophy
the outside-taste, oxygen,
blood on broken lip
indemnity of tooth
a bra strap
pushed underneath her sleeveless
casual dress

and the night would
python off
for necks liked it rough.
.

but an incapacity
to manage the come-downs
responsibly, a fouling
up the after places
where I most misspent
the spell
— & a love of the smell
where the spine meets
the girl

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

bear groins
bare coins
carpet sores
Cushions on the
floor
pee stains and more

the mind, while not a glass back cellphone,
but a boar rooting truffles out
facebook and messenger
grooming little haikus
into longer poems

those mornings, at that tilting point,
when first in open boyhood
I took hold of this Myself
and earned my own respect
—dominion mode

…the love of that smell
when the rains meet the road,
& flax in seed, their panties
pee-tainted with frunt

beautiful star-bright nudes
the mind is like, with respect
collecting it in handfuls,
stringy wild flowers
to freely give to Females
in authority positions
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

…one came after school, molten
on arrival. two rings, to say
it’s her, please do not ignore.
the same upon the door,
two knocks, a pause, two more
then up the flight of stairs
had her read my words
while we sipped the reds
in the room above the restaurant,
gay bars, frittatas, had me
frig ’n snout her on the floor
puffing settle fours
pushing into corners, standing,
a rotating pot-stirring pounding
use of all I had
to lift her
from the foam
baseless mattress,
twelve years older
than her students, breasts
like cones and nipples you
could stand
small figurines
on.

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3 thoughts on “Mines of Reverie”

  1. Pingback: 1sullied
  2. Dean English Dean English says:
    05/06/2020 at 6:02 am

    Thanks mark. I posted hastily I think and now want to make a few changes

    Log in to Reply
  3. Mark Prisco Mark Prisco says:
    04/06/2020 at 8:01 pm

    lots to dig here. esp like the finale – her age, her breasts

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