MAP
#67
Theme:
Hey Cupid, Has Your Aim Improved?
1.
From Jacob Elliott of Columbus, Georgia:
Moonsparkle
She
seduced me into her own world
Like
magic I spun
Through
darkness grasping for light
A
new place she sent me to
How
would I ever find my way out
Crawling
onto stars
And
hanging by my toes
On
a sliver of moonsparkle
The
only help I could receive
To
break the barrier
Of
her wretched hair
I
could not see how I was deceived
Everything
seemed so well between us
Love
had struck my eyes
And
I could not shade it with my hands
Her
tantalizing beauty
Would
not let me overcome her
An
obstacle she became
She
only used me for soul
Mind,
beauty, and heart she also wanted
Unbelievable
powers and wisdom she had possessed
Only
to become egocentric and want more
An
insatiable desire she had
For
my love I had thought
Trickery
and deception were on the menu
I
felt my way through
With
grievous pain and labor
The
moonsparkle safely tucked in my pocket
Comets
and meteors blazed at me
As
earth looked upon me with hypocrisy
No
help it lent me
Swimming
through blackholes
And
wandering weightlessly around
Somehow
I would make my way back
For
revenge upon love
Sticking
my tongue out to catch
Bits
of starwrinkles to appease my appetite
Flowing
marvelously in the waves
That
brought me to earth well managed
This
help that rather tickled my chin
Finding
my lost love
And
challenge her with a fight
When
she was hiding in my mind
Holding
it hostage
Daring
me to make my deadly move
Fidgeting
for my pocket
I
felt inside it for the life saving moonsparkle
Realizing
hope was the fear I was living on
She
stabbing my brain with mystical pleasures
Convulsions
moving throughout my body
Touching
the burnt rim of my pocket
Where
a hole had been left inside
Me
not knowing what charm had been lost
Falling
to the ground with a magnificent thud
As
my face fell into the irony of the moonsparkle
With
force it inhabited my mind
Only
to be too late
As
she were crowned with a great victory
Over
my hapless fighting efforts
milkman
'99
2.
From Victoria Vlach of Austin:
In
general,
a
heart can only be broken
in
the places
where
someone loves.
©
1998 VAV
And
I would sit with you
on
the low couch of our home,
and
watch the shadow of the earth
turn
to sky to night
©
1999 VAV
3.
From Rev. Wyrdsli, of Austin:
Mail
Order Bride?
Inessa
leans out of the color pictures in the free catalog
I
got in the mail.
She
has the face of a China doll.
Her
silky looking brown hair brushes her shoulders
A
white lace bluouse wraps around her neck.
A
tiny pearl earring hangs from her lobe.
Her
eyes, dark brown with just a hint of blue shadow, are sad, they say:
"Please,
come and get me out of Russia!"
Inessa
is twenty six years old, five foot five, one hundred twenty six
pounds
and
a University Graduate in Engineering
Her
English level is three out of five,
She
says:
"I'm
faithful, kind, serious, intelligent, optimistic. Seeking serious
W.
(I guess that means white, or wealthy) man who could become
my
lover and husband."
I
am already in love with Inessa.
I
have fantasized scamming the dollars it will take to go to Russia,
whatever
it will take to bring her back with me here,
where
she will not doubt melt in Texas heat after surviving Soviet winters.
She
is sweet and gentle and in love with me.
She
moves gently and with just the right touch of trepidation.
Eternally
grateful for getting her out of Russia.
She
is intelligent but sweetly naive about Western ways.
I
lovingly explain in simple English.
Confusing
her with my private jokes
she
won't get for another year.
She
looks at me with her big sad brown eyes and says: "Okay."
On
the other hand, she is a wizard. She downloads the service packs
from
Microsoft fixing the bugs in my
Windows
NT. And the apartment is spotless.
I
have come to this.
I
have come to dreaming about a mail order bride. How pathetic must I
be?
I
told someone, and she said: "But what if it doesn't work?
What
if she goes and sleeps with your best friend?"
"Well
I don't have a best friend." I joke. "Besides, she would
never do that to me,
not
my Inessa."
Rev.
Wyrdsli
4.
From Celeste Cafasso of Pittsburgh:
You
Wondered Where I Was
Roll
over in that dream,
it's
time to hug the pillow.
The scent of all those feathers
tickles the nostrils seeking me.
Smile
softly in that dream.
Just
one sweet nightime chuckle
will
explode across the silence
of
my whispered smile back to you.
By
now you know that I will take you
to
dreams of mountain rain.
Too warm for snow, too bright for night,
Too many things for nothing.
Love
all the loving that you dare.
Seep,
drip, expand the thought
as
all those dream rivers widen,
rush
and lay their mists upon you.
Roll
over again in that dream.
Push
wondering into the lumpy pillow.
You
know where I am, there beside you.
Let's
roll over and get some sleep.
©
1999 Celeste A.Cafasso
5.
From B. S. Allen of New Braunfels, Texas:
In
April, David
.
Whether
I'm walking,
raised
to the return of the robins,
or
inclined to cup the primrose,
I
come to remember.
.
And
in these simple gestures,
I
revisit another April
where
each new blossom grew
brighter
and seemed to bloom forever
.
How
the ground was alive with language:
an
alphabet of flowers
looped
across the meadow,
set
down in paragraphs of color.
.
And
I imagine him, this poet,
with
a strong, steady hand
writing
upon a slate of sky
and
every word, his name.
.
©
1999 B.S. Allen