iced teleology

for something like a purpose
she set out, wondering —
a doe among
the buzzards and the wolves

i met her on the corner of
eleventh and erasure —
the one who gives
can still be one who culls

for she’d learned from the undergrowth,
a rustle in the Vedas,
the cold of iron
too tight to her skin

and i had learned from atrophy,
and some from Paul McCartney,
but not enough for her
to let me

in

multicolored venom

multicolored venom
pouring everywhere and anywhere;
the quicksand drip that holds you in its snare,
your beads and denim –

psychedelic malice
marble overdrive and underrun:
the mortal day, the everlasting fun,
corona borealis –

sepsis and thalidomide,
darkness on the edge of town,
danger, joy, and habit going down,

but we can say

we tried

eleven hints (10)

to stand out from the rest is who you are.
you do not wear this like a crown; it is
more of a testament to what you've seen
than how you let it color your intent.

for much is ugly in this life, this way;
for we must live within our egosphere
and bloom where we are left to grow, or wilt,
as suits are disposition and our strength.

to stand out from the rest: your destiny.
for it is meaning that you freely give --
and knowing you has opened up my eyes
to just where joy can be, and in what form.

eleven hints (9)

dreary not
and solemn never,
celebrating
what she can;
half the distance to
forever,
measured in
a second's span

followed on,
and leaving after,
adoration's
full repute;
living love and
loving laughter,
choices
just herself
to suit

special need
and general freedom,
spanning many
kind regards;
knowing much, and
helping many,
fortune's favor
in
the

cards