Stopping For The Game

Peppermint lips soar out of combustion through many
carbonated atoms between external molecules
for which Hawaiian calzones are smitten with
the real felt wisdom as exactly presented; in my
local vocabulary, I'm digestive when you do me
a favor across the broken street from shuffling
utensils at a giant Ralph's, Ventura in maintenance
over tropical shadows after darkness shines irritated
with hard lamp posts.There might be sprinkled
cement around the bend before Moon Drive or
retained diets under bubbling caps- for that matter,
Junipero Serra's mission is dead because all
wild peace of a settler's disclosement often
exaggerates travelers into reflective separations,
just like an Indian sees cattle bladders with
some natural guys and prays with odd faith
beyond an evening tide.

by Alexander Julian

Other poems of JULIAN (230)

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