Fantasists

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Image Source: Flickr

we became those people overnight,

fantasists who daydream holding

hands and speak in whispers of ‘true love’

like nothing came before a kiss across

the console of a Chevy Cruz or

will exist without space curvature

across the low points of

our spines…

~

i’ve fanned the flames

and lost myself in

your geometry.

____

© Ben Ditmars 2017

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War Wounds

she speaks war wounds
from a flame, sobbing wine stains:
death-defying light,
a sudden mist of silver lining
bent on superstition.

frozen in the stratosphere;
your trust a heavy breeze
of free electrons, charging
atmospheres we left behind.

© Ben Ditmars 2015

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Photograph Courtesy of Helle Gade

Flying Machine

Hallowed nerves, an empty shell
Overflowing, headless on the beam.

We crash a glass half-full of relapse
Like the chambers of a Rozière balloon
Or loaded gun, she speaks

In syllables releasing hydrogen
As Lightning strikes.

Come Josephine,
The moon is on fire.

© Ben Ditmars 2015

fire

Image Source: Flickr

Mutant Love

“Love is a dog from hell” – Charles Bukowski

mutant

Image Source: Flickr

They say your innocence is lost
Damage, errors in your replication
Degenerate a sterile nature
But you are no less strong,
Ungodly or unrighteous;

Inheritance from sin becomes
Experience discernible
In cytoplasmic fragments
Of a stolen past where we
Adjust to amplitude and waves;
Commotion by the pillowcase.

© Ben Ditmars 2015