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Art

new paintings

Richard Harrison Memphis writes…

Richard Harrison thefeeling.website writes…

Richard Harrison Nashville writes…

Richard Harrison Miami writes…

fertility
my girl on the farm, in front of the family tree
Categories
Poetry

some poems about love

Richard Harrison Miami writes…

Richard Harrison Memphis writes…

Richard Harrison Nashville writes…

Richard Harrison thefeeling writes…

Richard Harrison writes…

Untitled

A clique of wild girls

lie around me, planting

kisses on my mouth

and forehead and chin

and neck. Their black

irises twinkling

in the blue red

light of my comfy

brown leather sofa.

I sit there

and be kissed,

humble poet,

recorder

of this dream.

Love Emoji

I am back in the library

poring over old letters from

Catalina to Madrid to Havana

centuries ago, pronouncing

new words, new verbs, in their

triform, ir er and ar.

I want to tell you that I want to squeeze you 

til you feel the love

I want to count the

times you’ve told me you love

me by all the stars in the sky

I want to make you laugh

a sidesplitting laugh

It is perfectly bright and warm

in my room

scratchy wool under my back

The sun has moved across the sky

I want to be here with you in the

night

I want to give you love

you treasure

forever

that builds you

a towering joy

“Terribly glad you decided to drop by,

Ellen Robinson,”

Your brown chest, goose pimpled,

you add cinnamon, its kiss is sweet like yours

you are that one person that I’ve been waiting for

waiting for my phone to ring,

I like the way my phone pings

about you wanting to rendezvous

for red

someplace after you get off

I’ll be there

looking debonair

like a new romantic

“that’s what I like about you you really know

how to dance,”

plays in my head, the vibrato

waves like an engine shifting gears,

I feel happy to know you want me

Your hips like ballerinas’

wrapped in your black dress

hair with streaks of blonde like a lady

who works at Navarro and says “Mira”

and “lo mismo” and wears a lot of gold jewelry,

your eyes dancing across my face

revealing your pleasure

you are like a letter in the mail-person’s bag

promising the words that I long to hear spoken

into my ear

and to speak into your ear,

because you make what you want to hear

Your blue jean jacket

reminding me of

music festival smokers