Cold Comfort iii

time melted away under my watch
as I looked upon the horizon
so dreamy – I was reminded of Salvador Dali’s The Persistence of Memory

then my mind quickly turned to that little country
called ‘The Saviour’ or El Salvador – a place not known for much
other than that every hour a gun fires and a life is lost

I pondered that idea of Bergson’s
wondering what élan vital creates such life forms
and that too made me weary

so I switched thought
realising how lucky
I was to be caught in the clutches of comfort
 

© Heath Muchena, 2015


63.4

to be truly an artist
one has to be selfless
 

© Heath Muchena, 2015


hell hath no fury like a woman scorned

all the while it appeared she had forgiven him
but she was just being clever not to soil her reputation by scandal

so instead… she convinced another
to avenge on her behalf

the same way David instructed Solomon to bring Shimei ‘to the grave with blood’

and it was grim
 

© Heath Muchena, 2015


Lothario’s Peccadillos ii

they’d meet
and have moonlight trysts
far from public reach

she had the mystic
of a J.H. Lynch lady print
so feminine
enchanting
truly a perfect peach…

he wasn’t rich
but could grant her every wish
so masculine
potent
and fully up on the inch….
 

© Heath Muchena, 2015


Sketch for a Theory of Persistent Passions ii

during my teens
I lost a collection of juvenilia
larger than Eli B. Browning’s extant writings

and for years I didn’t work on a single thing
or recite a prayer
for life had become the bearer of bad tidings

because of my sins
I also lost the love of my life
my ‘Uncrowned Queen’ who like Barbara Palmer
was the most popular of all my mistresses

still, after all this
I promised to do no less than Lope de Vega
and so I put my pen to paper on most evenings

but as far as ‘women’ problems
I wasn’t so confident I could do any better than him
unless I limited the dalliances
 

© Heath Muchena, 2015


63.3

the artist
borrows from the academic
who owes the public
 

© Heath Muchena, 2015


The Eternal Imaginarium iii

I could sense her presence
by the scent
from a memory traced
back to a kind of engram
of the experience we shared
in a fruit tree and flower garden
a most happy place
I wish I could go back….
 

© Heath Muchena, 2015


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