Tag Archives: Sonnet

Lake Effect (Sonnet No. 13) 

Copyright 2015 By Boinkaz

impassioned glaciers fled a sweating sun,
five lakes & megafauna in its wake.
ray-ban rocks, rippled hats tied tight to chin.
white carpetbags cast akimbo in chunks.

now new terminals & mist-muffled dams
flip ships from ports with pinball precision
in chains of custody 6 fathoms deep.
shorelines pass, browning mouths of broken towns.

like horse, mastadon, camelop fossils
they perished gazing at the horizon.
soon warm bayfront windows will open
to excavations of boats & swimsuits.

But for now lake affect snow crests to waves
and winter dead lie stacked for spring graves.

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The Abominable Loinfruit , #12

By Boinkaz
Arms lithe, hands writhe, kissed at tips to a mai
hair gilded straw over ivory skin.
You spun from beach rings of rucksack and toke
emerged from a puff of arabesque smoke.

Weak force this gravity that binds objects
past beauty to the teepee of the loins.
Ovoid dying star, your fertility
collapsed to sobs of supernova child.
I looked at the kid and hoped it worth it
to sacrifice our life and all, you know,
for dissolution and irrelevence.
Typical man, you said, rolling your eyes.

“I’ll get you for that, hissed our progeny.
“Dying, you’ll beg for the morphine you need.”

Copyright 2015 by Boinkaz
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Too Clever by Half, Sonnet #11

by Boinkaz
men often weary of being The Man
an eternal cherished friend–not a stud
having an intellect seen as brilliant
means little when no woman will want you
there was this woman who like some women
wanted to be wanted by wild men
she was smarter than all others, but then
formaldehyde blinded men passed her by again.
once a man who faced a cancerous death
realized, as he drew near his final breath
that his intelligence made it all worse
the disintegration more frightening
intelligence is not wisdom x 3
the price we pay is pain of pedigree
Copyright 2015 by Boinkaz

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On Death,  Sonnet Number 10

by Boinkaz
Death, I’ve smelled the retch of your fetid breath
in laundromats of lost humanity.
I hear your preachings on my daily trail
dum dum choirs sung to a running man’s back.
Some spend their lives in long hallelujahs
or behead us all with fanaticism:
We who dare dissent, who know not to know,
don’t deny the daunting and certain depths of our graves.
Gathered swells of tumbling bells will chuckle
at passings of them, hellbound for sassing.
But as there is comfort in religion
so there is in the husbandry of life.
Morbid wild hair I stroke, pockmarked cheeks I brush
I press my fingers to her lips and whisper: “Hush.”

Copyright 2015 by Boinkaz
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Channel, No. 5 

By Boinkaz

for a man who expired here online

face in the keyboard, his hand to his chest

his corpse oiled in pale monitor light 

cubicled mausoleum, I suppose

there is no good cemetery online

no crematorium to cook him in

the living mingle here with the deceased

their faculties professional adjuncts

We channel them through appropriate poems

conjure them in crowds we once frequented

I think that it’s good that we keep them near

and a shame Americans ignore death

they flick the remote once you leave their lives

passing swiftly twitter totem accounts.

Copyright 2015 by Boinkaz

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Energy, Sonnet #4

By Boinkaz

tantric automatic garage yoga

door glow from its kundalini lingers

now that the SUV has been withdrawn

it proved that it can fly and then closed~

you left the house knocked backward on its pose

those stairs will never miss you, I glare

as green bananas soften, tan to mush,

plucked huddled bunches of tropical tribes~

human time differentials are so short

splitting the tight atom of a whole day

this is the strongest law of nature’s tort

energy transforms, as it did with us.

I’m not elated with you, nor destroyed.

Copyright 2015 by Boinkaz

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A She-Time Sonnet

by Boinkaz

she has two pupils set within one eye

the product of inbreeding I’m convinced

her cooking is earnest and italian

set in reject pots from an outlet sale.

hawks of sweat clutch her arm as she cleans house

she’s merry as a bell with her talk shows.

reading ingredients off chocolate bars

she laboriously eats the morsels.

if time were a rose, its petals have dried

and scents our bathroom, behind the toilet.

claws of first snow withdraw to pads of grass

long our hearts tumble in this laundromat

eventide kisses of tonic and rye~

subtle jazz slow symbol whisk till we die.

Copyright 2015

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