The Julep in Juniper


His ears, a the back of his head.

his forehead.

His hair, a the back of his face.

his foreface.

His smile, a the curve of his mouth

round found mouth

his foremouth

I am watching him

Climbing over a porch

whistling, the julep in juniper

and he’s an improper servant of the law

my lord,

I’m served the sentences that played a your lips,

with my own free mind.

Climbing over the tree,


he is an immortal messenger of the law,

I am a pleading to the witness to your eyes

on my own free mind.,

and I am staring at the watch,


slipping through the cool dew

with ice blue pools,

and the rules of life and of lying

rules of smiling and dying

pairs of x and y

inwardly wise, not without the contradictions,

in sprawling grass,

his smile, o the curve of his mouth; alkalinity

and the maze of dust left on the post, the

way the air brushes over the everywhere,

touching nothing

just being strung along and along.

Copyright 2015 Golden Star Poetry


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