Labor(less) Day

poem about the beach
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A carefully planned trip heads south
When the supermarket I go to before
Hitting the beach is now a
Gutted, renovated shell
My trusted landmark killed by progress
We started late, uncertain
Blue sky makes up for green water, waves
That always, always return
Pictures are taken, harmless
Worthless in the scheme of no scheme
In the flowing crests
lovemaking proves
To be impossible
these beautiful freaks
Of nature did what judging eyes, children
Nearby and the endless
rounds of
In and out of doubt could not!
We give up and hold on to at least
The effort the way a man
treasuring The last of his fading light in a
Cave does when the flame
turns Farewell From his eyes
The waves chase her out of the ocean
And I chase her
Beautiful music
Sand in places I kiss later


more by LORD BISON

CHECK OUT: That Golden Woman – A Spoken Word Album by Lord Bison

photograph by Andrew Pons


Image Curve’s Manifesto

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Lord Bison

Jazz-soaked spirit running circles around despair...or something like that. Really. Lover of words, lover of being in worlds New Yorker, artist, Virgo besieged by airhead tendencies akin to Libra moves. Bronx is home base. Began an obsession with writing at seven and twenty-odd years hence, still at it. Enjoy/love/hate/be bored/appreciate to your heart's content. Or something like that.

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