CIRCLING RAINBOWS
by John Solt

 

instead of eating
they "reverse vomit"

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we all cling to life
robots on the moon

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Gated Community

she had big tits at 18
and took them as far as she could

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people have nicknames
"Fats" "Tiny" and "Krazee"
but no one is called "Lonely"

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poems are fish
pulled up from

deep blue

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Thananthia
buries her head
in her name

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Amsterdam rainbow

1
the coffee shop owner's son
dedicates both arms
to weed leaf tattoos

2
in the canals
vibration waves
only dogs can hear

3
coasting through firefly clouds

4
destabilizing
interior landscapes

5
arrival at the only city
that encourages
rearranging the senses

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autobiography left to bake
in the oven

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i mobilize insects
spilling coughs
on the floor

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to write on conical paper is to wrap the mind around a hole

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i no longer have
the chopsticks
to meddle in
their marital cacti

------------------------------------

adults walk
seeming to carry
genitals on
their heads

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the tram
went in one
ear and out
the other
never on
time

------------------------------------

would rapes decrease
if everyone had
the same face?

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they shook hands
less nervously
the second time

------------------------------------

her voice was syrup
bathed in frying oil

------------------------------------

the mind you are out of
was never your own

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what came out
before the tunnel
has racial
predilections
in a b.b.q. bowl

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their problem
wasn't falling down
it was that
they got up

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go ahead and get dizzy
headless cowboy

------------------------------------

let syllables drop
like bird food in the alley

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they asked each
other for love
and understanding

as if they were
negotiating
with terrorists

------------------------------------

now that it's over
the heretics were correct

------------------------------------

he ducked
the humiliation
of her hairdo

------------------------------------

you throw boomerangs
at glass mice
as if you have nothing
else to do

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to commemorate your inability
to leave an email unanswered
i threw out one of yours
unread

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vacuum packed elevator held ransom
by pathetic religionless fanatic

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nobody in a safari hat
could claim to be a prophet

------------------------------------

i aimed high
to fly low

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© 2005 by john solt
light and dust anthology of poetry