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Editing - polished draft

February 29th, 2024

Alternately titled: 111th leap year since 1582
the year Pope Gregory XIII world leader
(i.e. essentially paterfamilias among
Roman Catholic flock)
timely maneuvered around calendrical rock
and hard space implementing
viable system tracking years ad hoc
out of sync and lock
step by one day
with astronomical calendar,

Fore score minus xv orbitz ago
from being centenarian
strong contractions forced me
to pass thru cervix,
buck naked bare lady,
I ranked as only grandson sharing
same surname as Aaron,
(mine paternal grandfather)
me the sole heir –
foreshortened to Sol Aire

Mark Lozel 1955 - 2023

In the rush of wind, he chased freedom— Fast and barefoot, carving trails on water.

His little sister, perched on skis, Learned courage from his laughter.

He taught us how to fall gracefully— ‘Curl up in a ball,’ he’d say, with a wink.

Mark, the teacher, the preacher of joy, His lessons etched in ripples and waves.

He danced with rivers, whispered to lakes, and left us with memories as vast as oceans.

We miss Mark’s laughter, his watercolor soul, but he lives on—splashing joy into his daughter’s eyes.

May Mark’s legacy flow through generations.

Compliment

I show her the poem
with the noisy words
building to a crescendo.

My scribbled paean, foolishly trying
to say these things to her
better than they’ve been said
by others, in ink on paper.

“Maybe I should tone all of this down some?”, I propose.

She smiles and says, “I like the clamor just the way it is.”

Court Of Fools

Taking station on a crystal dais
of many levels, see them.
These men these over lords
as they stand in judgement,
knowing their every word an uncut gem.

Meting out retribution
for each crime of passion,
to wear a heart on their sleeve
as if it were a statement of fashion.

Case not yet heard for trial,
Specifics have been leaking...
Lawyers calling for mistrial
running from door to door sneaking.

Food glorious food

Asia generic guy gastronomy (and how gourmet foods eat destructively clearly beyond any) excess enthusiasm, the necessity to feed and clothe this corporeal essence christened Matthew Scott Harris revels more so within the medium of writing.

Shoe Stories

In the evening we walk backwards
To nowhere in particular
Collecting shoe stories.

Avenues and alleys blind
Old haunts that no one wants
They remain like a stalker.

Shoes of patent leather pounded
Pavements blister bloody red
Small rocks our shoes collected.
Full of painful pebbles

Tripping and stumbling,
Treading and re-treading.
Regretful and remembering,
Walk right back to the beginning.
Walking backwards all evening
Collecting the Shoe stories.

When the entire mug awash
with floating leavings
by golly by gosh,
sipping said herbal brew
analogous challenge
to eat spaghetti squash
with one chopstick.

Earlier yesterday February twenty fourth
two thousand twenty four
found yours truly (me)
blithely consuming delicious
La COLOMBE DOUBLE LATTE
cold iced latte, complete
with a frothy layer
of milk and a touch of sugar.

Lower gastrointestinal war civil
immediately declared
because yours truly beleaguered
by lactose intolerance.

Working

"Where are we going?" his young daughter asked.

"To cheer up some of my friends," he replied.

"They seem to be a lot of work for you," she offered with concern.

"Yes," he said, “You’re right. The very best kind of work."

Sassy sobriquets schooled sissy spindleshanks...

studious skinny scruffy scribe

My utmost humblest apology
for inducing the following
cerebral calisthenics upon your cranium,
but the cost of friendship
with yours truly
(me – a foo fighting,
eagle eyed, beatle browed, beastie boy
christened Matthew Scott Harris)
doth newt come
like some hootie and the blowfish
super tramping
cheap trick linkedin to
wings at the reo speed wagon
spinning zz top soundcloud.

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