I gush distracted through my days
but when I choke with disgust, starve for poetry,
I dig out their works and cover my ears to the world
The common world where words are disposable,
no longer present pleasure
but tedious imaginings
of short-handed, short-sighted vulgarities.
The world where “u r ok” is acceptable bastardization.
I burrow into my favorite comfort foods
like a fork bringing sustenance to my body
I allow them to enter my veins with lusty anticipation.
When I ingest Joel, E.I. Wong, Roads, or Cardiff
I’m blissfully transported, transposed into a new trajectory,
rescued by the unsuspecting, unaware, shiny knights
The breathless depths of my immersion
puddle into my lap, spill onto my blouse
leaving me with short-lived shielding against ignorance
besotting my sensibilities with undulating vocabulary
I lift one last feather towards the wings of Queen Bird.
The final dollop of delectable dessert.
Deep sighs topped with a satisfied burp from my binge-filled indulgence;
Gratefully sated by the authors of still-life slices.