poetry

grand prix

Red dirt introspections...


Grand Prix recollections,
  Red dirt introspections,
        Counterintuitive elections—

    A rare wonder I was lost to
State-sponsored corrections,
        After I bought those drown-me brown

    Objections as to why we shouldn’t be,
              How anything darker we couldn’t see
    In all that eighties-untrue;

        We were half-projections
On sky-strung heart-conceptions—
    But I couldn’t, in you, just too-shyly

        Be at peace as me in the sea that we
  So badly wanted, wave-daringly,
To near-immortally be.


Previous Post:
    Poetry: Mare
        https://windstrewn.com/2021/03/10/mare/

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