“PHOTO OP” by Adesh Kaur

Tender in their natures, unfolding young soul’s
bliss in shades. Resplendent in potent male cool,
he guards her.
Full surrender, melting into his shoulder, she smiles.
Death comes not between my mommy & daddy
in a boat

upon the lake. Heave my heart into my mouth!
Sex. O yes. Sex. O, sex she has just had, no less.
I can feel it.
Snap! Wrong to think that about your parents.
Parents as people. People long before you were born
and a bittling after.

Parents enduring storms over the lake, coving under
each other’s armor, sucking breath. Private dancing,
just the twain.
Let thy fierce dog’s truth be told; he loved her
too much to stay half-dead & killed himself
in refrain.

Adesh Kaur

All Rights Reserved

© 2010


What if I stood before you yummy, naked, and giggling?
Would the little children in Park La Brea grow long noses?
Would the Neiman Marcus matrons buzz for security?
Would the baristas at Starbuck’s charge me extra for a Venti Americano?
Would the poets and writers in the Collective ovate me standing?

I am because….

I am.

I am your breath, your astonishment, your looney.
I am your sex, your howl, your suckling.
I am your dirty little feet, your lilac wine, your green jello.
I am your blood fire shadow-ghost mommy.
And now I shall whoop it out…

I am your favorite.

I am because…. I Am.

I am the poet of your breath.

My heart-lungs are in you predawn computer’s a’glowing.
Soft! The broken-breasted one is typing to save her life,
stiff with the Muse between her legs.
I exhale and she poets herself unto glory be.

I dissolve into the Lady of the Rainbow as she ascends into her art
gallery of brain. I smile whilst she chakras masterpieces of pain.

O dear, a lonely one over there with swollen ankles is unkittening her heels.
Breathe, pussy-cat, breathe.

And in the far away night sky, it is he, he who sings an aria of luminous loss.
You shall possess tunes of eternity, young man. Yes, and I will hum along.

Alas, there suffers a poet inhaling a grief we shall not speak of. No.
This one I will wait for, just up ahead, where all infinity bubbles with joy.
Breath is not needed where her sweet one eternally celebrates.

My compadre poet who breathes fire into mythical creatures as lovers
has done her job well. All applause and brava, Divine Mistress of Phoenixes.

And our Spirit Guide, our Maestro of Genius, our Poet Daddy.
He raises his baton to the terrible beauty of beginnings.
The orchestra holds its breath, but the maestro is untamed and wild.
With a howling crash, he unleashes the music of the spheres into our very souls.
Captain, Guru, Wise Fool, you are our inspiration, our respiration.

And we, we are the Collective Sigh.

Adesh Kaur

(photo: Jack Grape’s Wednesday Morning Class)

All Rights Reserved

© 2010

“DAISIES” by Adesh Kaur

Oliver Hale

My young one crouched down, stood up, and grinned.
“Look, mom, there are flowers in winter.”
“Oh, Olly, thank you.”
“Ya know, mom. I think that this is a daisy.”
“Well, I think so, too.”
It was indeed a daisy in winter in my young son’s heart and hands. A gift, a gift for mommy.
My very own hero holding out a flower gift.
Gosh, do I love this child.
“Well, Olly, we better go into swim team practice now.”
I stuck the grass flower into the band of my cowboy hat.
Pool time.
He struggled with his breath. Afraid, I think.
Something about putting his head under water for too long.
I sat on a lounge chair.
I acted busy.
I wanted to tell him it was okay, that he was doing great.
Coach David is kind but kinda sharp.
I watched Olly sinking, paddling to keep his head just above water.
They have to know that Oliver sees flowers in winter.
He knows about daisies.

Photo & Poem by Adesh Kaur

All Rights Reserved

© 2010