i’m not amish by Larry Buzeyn

my gypsy
heart beats,
dirty dreams
in color,
conceived,
in the juice,
from
my radical
tube.
my celebrated
religion,
spits out
smoke rings,
at the end
of my pipe,
that my
fat lips
sucks on,
in religious
surrender.
my twisted
tongue eats,
at the
community
trough.
i’m a
mennonite
player,
trespassing,
the globe.
my cravings
reappear,
like a
roadside,
bum.
i pocket
my change,
and move
to the apples,
for my
sourpuss
dessert.
i stand
upside down,
infiltrated
with lust,
intrigued
by the smell,
i will empty
myself
again,
less than
before.
my lungs,
cry for mercy,
for grace,
and belief.
i pace
my granite
muscle,
beyond
this intercourse,
upon
savory sheets
once again,
i am
confused
as the poet,
with
a casual,
eye.


Larry Buzeyn Larry Buzeyn, “buzfree,” has been with his partner, freebuz, for more than thirty years. Their first twenty years were spent in Omaha, Nebraska. The last ten years have been in Phoenix, Arizonia where buzfree and freebuz live with five dogs, all rescued. buzfree uses his five senses when writing poetry. www.buzfree.com

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