The Creative Works of Ian D. Campbell | Minneapolis / Saint Paul, MN

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POETRY

Iris Pool
The anticipation of
Not knowing
If my fantasy of you
Is being relieved.

To taste and touch you
and then share
my flesh with yours.

Hoping for an expected
Ironic disposition of a
Holy archetype.

I try to rid myself of
This mutation—a handicap
All too familiar.
I lose myself
In your eyes and
I falsely believe that
They are mine
To swim in.
Cheap Furniture Repair
She reaches,
Uncrontrablly,
For my Heart.

But this diatribe
is Missing now.

And unlike you,
I can't self-repair
Without a set of
Instructions.

So bold, so feverish,
I retreat into a coma

Protecting myself
from this poison.

Not easy and
A full time job, girl.

So you sat the sunrise
Out this round, but
I can't agree anymore.
Sophomore Year
I, in my excitement,
was waiting for
That bootstrap.

And with baseball on
Your mind, I tried
to seduce you with
Theater.

Secret dressing
Room call. Me, you
and the Priest.

I saw between
Your legs as the
Makeup faded and I
was never
Happier.

And now, matrimony,
a patriarch and
a stained Buddha
Statue I retreat to
The Garden.
5th Grade Crush
Strange,
But I've seen you
Everywhere lately.

Caramel colored
Girls, either you
or your daughter.

I'm not quite
Sure.

But I laugh inside.

The Challenger may
Have exploded, but
We didn't.

The cassette tapes
May have been lost.

But not the smiles,
the cupcakes,
the ruler,
and what was most important.
Sting the Spindle
Mistakes made,
but not me.
While charging
this bigotry
I fail to fall
into what
should be absence
of argument.

Into an abyss, a
Dark Traveler
I easily
Become if
I remain
Unconscious
.
Our differences
Nauseate me
so I prick
my finger in
order to
Dream.

Pleased now that
our Prince Charming
is one in the same.

With love and
libido generously
mixed with androgyny
.
So we can see
Eye to eye.
The Devil's Play Time
Topsy-turvey and
Not releasing is
This discourse.

Stale, no -
Seeping into a
Cavernous mixture that
Overwhelms the Self.

Sensing immortality.
An impossible reality.

Dragging my feet
into puddles of
deaths lost
and pains remembered.
Retirement
Geriatrics plays this Puzzle now.

I dance, but stumble
into a waxed window
without anything but
nakedness.

Coarse is your
tongue
and dry are my
interests in you.

Once an icon,
I'm prepared
to pounce
onto a different
Ending.

If luck brings
an arrival of
sorts.
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