March 9, 2020


by William Irving (author's profile)



Here!, He stood at top of the crown
Winking at the evening letting down her hair

High lighted plush gold
Upon the shoulders of Kansas City.

Pines amid breeze sound
Like a salt shaker shaken

Rescinding as quitting as kiss to speech
silencing erection against arousal.

How could evening be evening
without nipples swollen swell?--

Gift as a goddess overlooking
The plaza languorous poetry,

The carriages pulled by horses
Mingles a mating of vintage exotic.

I was reclining into a new year,
an elevator bigger that the cell of living;

Freedom!--is never really free, it is
Caged inside a cage as prisons.

Our loving and living are enlonged hours
inside century upon century, our volume

After volume en-volumed poetry
Real as lake eyes once afforded swim

For him to live a death endepth her waters.
Unforgettable shall abide and adhere

An offering of log cabins, drifting
dream- "she will always be the Ozarks

imprinted a signature upon a poet.
Maybe Kansas City will be remembered

Don't trespass upon the grave, he still
exists to live, encelled inescapable prison to-date

As love sometimes is, the way freedom is never truly free, underfoot these poltics-

who this!, shall love be---dappleed
A warmth from suns' dying, clothed in the west

and visible as immortal poets' speech
*' I love thee to the depth and bredth and height!,'

Freer than true freedom seldom is---1/8/20; 2:32pm
William Irving


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