A bra for the cure of bad poetry:

for Jewell surviving after breast cancer..

I am not alone here; you too have dated a woman only

to snap her bra strap against her back. One day

with the house on wooden stilts and Florence

rising beneath us, not yet flushed with

mad carp and the whispers of the old being

helo'ed  up beyond the confederate stars:

The world is a horrible, horrible place to see

unsupported with demi creations or crazyhorse,

convertible, uplifts like fear or false n*****s

uninhibited, who read out loud

the "Farmers Almanac" which foretold 

in dendritic markings than when the low

growing phlox could not be seen from

the front porch swings, it is time to get in the life boats where poetry can pull us along. Any one of us,

the scientist say, our b***s like rocket boosters

disengage us from a reality that pours like melting zinc

towards the flower stalks of our youth. "Suck me" they say

in our twenties. "Fondle me" they yell out in our in our thirties

by abstinence or self infliction,

for I, like all the others, were wounded. Science have

finally found the perfect breasts, implanted

like those her sister got/ I could not help but wonder, 

seeing them rule together like a demigod with a sissy bride. 

They make a bra now that when straightened out

can wrap around the largest elm.

Isn't that the most ABSURD circle you can draw

on flesh, i'm thinking to myself.

2.

The small opening where the milk rises

where the menfolk raced between themselves with mountains

and garlands in the background

and the earthwork of jeweled goats and wood for the plenty.

It was like a rococo painting where no one can

see the ruins thru the symbols of where they sat.

"I use to wear tee shirts with bold writings

at the university/ sometimes even wet" she says to me.

Save us, oh Lord, from the conspicuous mass

that forms like

saddled glass between us.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

You are amazing my friend. I do many poetry readings in the Detroit area. I hope one day to meet you at one. I do Sterling Height Library writers meeting every two weeks.
"The small opening where the milk rises
where the menfolk raced between themselves with mountains
and garlands in the background
and the earthwork of jeweled goats and wood for the plenty."
I loved the complete poem. The above lines. Perfect and strong. Thank you my friend for sharing yiour outstanding poetry.
Coyote

[Beccy]

So much has been written about the female breast and its fascination to the male of the species.

Having suckled a child, five words have it in my view; 'the infant to mother bond,'

Wonderful poetry and I wish all God Speed to Jewel.

Beccy.

[h d e rushin]

that relationship between mother and child, I grew up thinking, was a mouth-to-breast relationship. The world and it's sordidness wants to free us from the congenital in order to thrust us into the visual. I noticed how my own young daughter (at 14) wanted to reveal, like the other girls in her school. Or like Jewell, who thought herself "less" of a woman after loosing one to surgery. What else but vanity shapes our disposition so alarmingly, I wonder. Thank you my love for your insight and your words....dana

[CD Campbell]

I have been known to worship at the alter of the breast. With advancing age, Id like to think that I appreciate them more as functional works of art than toys. As a man I cant imagine what it would be like to lose them. But I do think they should be saved and free as in free to roam. Love your work. CD

[h d e rushin]

thank you my dear brother and good Friday morning to you my friend./ dana