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Reginald Saltpeter's Frustration
& Disappointment Emporium



                         He knew only that he was committed to a quest
                         whose meaning he did not understand,
                         but whose necessity he could not refute.

                                  —Robert Macfarlane, The Wild Places

Who will look at you if you don't offer them love?
There's no need to hide if you can refrain from loving.
Going with the flow, the pseudorandom flow,
through a succession of prosocial intimacies,
relationships as iterations rather than unique creations.
They don't have to understand what you're trying to do.
They only have to like it.

I am no sinner,
and damn your assumption!
The lowest common denominator of ugliness is beauty.
The delusion that love is a delusion.
The delusion that it isn't.
The delicate and damp fantasies of the vanquished.
All marriages should end in trauma after ten years.
All friendships should last forever.
Everything is made of sadness.

Like Eros the auctioneer, talking too fast
to be understood by the people fidgeting in their seats,
most of whom are, for one reason or another,
unable or unwilling to bid, wonderful people
with horrible taste in music and people who don't listen
to music at all...

Passion neglected, or suppressed, expresses
as anger, its lowest and basest form.
Pleasure without desire or desire without pleasure?
And here the pluripotency of aliteraturation.
I would give you red's red
and orange's red
and blues—red,
I would give you red.
What does green mean?

Good hearts melt like an endless depth of snow;
the rest bottom out on defensive ice.
Shall we dwell in grievance,
cohabitate with complaint and restraint?
What can we infer from the fact
that most people look better clothed
than nude?  What if all we are
is a pattern that recognizes patterns?

Marry the literal
and take metaphor as lover,
they say.

The woman that all other women remind you of—
that's the woman you love.

Zláya véd'ma, where are you?
Zláya véd'ma, where are you?

All poems are written and copyrighted by Michael C. Rush.
None may be republished or repurposed without permission.