May 21, 2010

Russell Streur


What's mine is yours
Anna Drinking tells Joseph's son one afternoon
In that practiced voice
A practiced woman learns along the way

And if she notices
He doesn't return the vow
The sentence can't be any worse
Than any other felony pending in Fulton County Georgia

So after smoking her peace

In a glass pipe
She sleeps that night beside him
Later in the dark to the sound of Dexter Gordon's saxophone

Until proven guilty.


What goes up they say
Must come down
But I'm not going to
Fall for that.

All I need to square the root
Of twice the gravitational contrast
Times the radius of a celestial object
Like for instance your anatomy tonight

Is one more second's worth of speed
25,000 miles per hour
Give or take on earth
One more foot of altitude enough to be

High on you.


Russell Streur is a born-again dissident residing in Atlanta, Georgia. His work has been published in the United States, Ireland and Switzerland and he has recently opened the doors of The Camel Saloon, a bar for dromedaries, malcontents and jewels of the world. The first drink is on the house.

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