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The Poetry Of...
Kenneth P. Gurney....................
Too Much Talk

Your kisses are sweet peaches
and the tang of cranberries.

Cold water bruises the noon heat.
Your skinny dive penetrates my reflective surface.

There is a hole in me
like a boot treading too many miles.

You are my mending kit.
Touch me again with your hand.


Incestuous traffic rubs the road the wrong way.

The regular thump, thump, thump
of rubber punctuates the slit of concrete slabs.

Diffusing plumes color the morning sky.
I fume in the exhausted air.

Kiss the dashboard, twisted metal crack-up,
spurious air bag deployment can’t save the whales.

Accumulated hydro-carbons test
the billowing fat of cumulus clouds,

buried in the melting ice caps.


Remember the little teddy bear,
the one with blue fur?

Garage sale gone it is
for a quarter last year.

How cheap the past is
when it is near.

So much more we’d pay
to have it all again some day.

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