Supine Thoughts

1. lying face upwards.

Poetic thoughts on love, life, mental health and the state of society.


7. Hurricane boy

The gilt gold burnish of youth rested well on him,

like little else.

But rest was not a verb 

that hurricane boy often entertained.


His heart-beat was a war drum;

his lanky teenage legs 

the flag poles

of a crimson revolution.


His eyes were cool pools

in the heat of summer.

Still, shallow,

laden with rocks underneath.


His guitarist hands were a forest fire.

Razing through spring petals

and tree trunks

too fragile to withstand the flames.


The boy was poison 

in a pretty package. 

And what he couldn't drown or burn,

he knew his lips could damn near decimate.


(And on his tongue, I tasted rebellion.)

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