Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

when I touch the cheeks of existence
my fingers understand this is no hocus pocus

when I dive into the deep end of a pool of stars
I understand this is not a place with souvenirs

Oh it's real enough, just no post cards
in a swiveling metal rack in some astral filling station

and even though there Is something to write home about
I wouldn't know what to say, how does a man

describe the color's in the tail of a comet's rocketing ass
with the inadequate language he currently possesses

he would need a new alphabet, new phrases
and maybe, when you know you are there

you are inside the matrix that is, maybe you see something different
than I see, maybe I would need to acknowledge

some things are indescribable
subjectively unique.....beyond " vanilla acceptance "

like your favorite flavor at Baskin-Robbins ( remember when 31 seemed like infinity ? )
maybe you are Cherry Macaroon, and maybe

I am Daiquiri Ice
each of us gets to drool down on our zoot suit the way we choose

as we peer into the sumptuous glass case of the universe
each of us gets to taste the sweet flavors of time and space

and try to report back to others, what it was like.

Spot on! I dig the words. I like the format. I'm amused by the ending. I want a large cup of Menchie's Frozen Yogurt.

so utterly human
every metaphor, simile approachable and clear
cultural rapport zing

Cecil & Judih...much obliged

I like it- it has such flare-desire- and I sense - a shrug - to let the words tilt and boogie
Like a carnival of intimacy all wrapped in salt water taffy
Near the sea
Poetry is like traveling in someone else’s car

thanx jana...

Love ya- so content- sun is out -