Humid Port City

Benjamin Jenkins, life, New England, New Hampshire, poem, poems, poetry, Portsmouth, writing

The female figure

Toes like candy

Creased arches

Architecture, Imposed over

Intersections of blue veins

Legs crossed

Pale thighs culminate at

Impenetrable shadow.

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The Collective

Benjamin Jenkins, life, New England, New Hampshire, poems, poetry, Portsmouth, writing

Slowly slipping away

Measured by day

It’s my conscious thought

Or the ability to collect it.

The Daisy Field (III/III)

Benjamin Jenkins, life, New England, poem, poems, poetry, Throwback Thursday, writing

We fell from Heaven

And struck every branch

On the way down.

The impact left a crater,

Half the diameter of a New England town.

With no direction I dream

Of rambling on.

Lucidly waking, scrambling for

Planes, trains, or bus.

Filling my hiking bag, hand encompassing a compass.

The Rhetorical Question

Benjamin Jenkins, life, New England, New Hampshire, poem, poems, poetry, Portsmouth, writing

It’s ill education

It’s the pursuit of satisfaction

Comparing cash value

To the subjective flow of time.

The Rolling Bones

Benjamin Jenkins, life, New England, New Hampshire, poem, poems, poetry, Portsmouth, writing

Take a chance and

Roll the bones.

Don’t let it build

Until it bursts.

Mow the lawn,

Water the garden,

Get your hair cut,

Sip Lillet Blanc from a chilled cup.

Allow alcohol to touch your lips,

Don’t let it be the reason they move.

The Fear

Benjamin Jenkins, life, New England, New Hampshire, poem, poems, poetry, Portsmouth, writing

Heavy influence of substances

Stops the thought process.

Heavy influence of caffeine

Keeps me keen.

Write a horrid mass of

Marble-bag words and splatter plots.