a concoction of mixed aromas,
a once in a lifetime scent,
impossible to bottle,
impossible to name,
nameless and shameless

morning coffee, last nights vin rosé,
a come-on tasting for the summer coming,
the stale of the evening meals of grains and kale,
the sour remains of bedroom sweat,
the displeasing scented sight of
sweat soiled clothes carelessly discarded

the first of the season red stained white peonies
fail to mask the bodies aromatic musks,
which are gender identifiable

my sneakers hail mary, her stockings odorize the atmosphere
most unusually, nylon and lycra are strangely familiar,
prior memorized perhaps, from deep within,
deep amidst where, the ***** linens are shelved and binned,
before they journey to the Egypt of the basement

the burnt crumbs of illegal brioche toast
hidden on unclean sheets,
state “breakfast in bed,
is yummy in the tummy,
but next time use a big dinner plate,
down here, the burnt of the bread and the burnt
of other things is just a fragrance too far

even the colorless and tasteless water
absorb the ionosphere of smells,
because one does usually speak poetically,
make a vice presidential declaration:

she smells, I manually stink, each, glower shower, nower,
open the window to the spring wet grass,
exhume and send away this odor now christened,

nameless and shameless


11:47 28/4/19

Lovely after-smell –

the rain fuming from the earth,


the grass around me.

My heart drinks the smells

of the lilac tree, I'm drunk –


of li-lilac wine.

She used to flaunt around with whispers of whiffs of **** and cigarette smoke sunken into her sweaters and wavy locks.

When she left, he longed for the smell of what he once had, so he started hanging around the potheads and chainsmokers of the campus

But soon, he realized that it was not just the smell of scorched planty fibers that he longed for,

It was the smell of her without and before the addictions,
How sweet and sticky it was in the late summer nights,
How her breath toyed with the hairs of his neck.

But he mostly just missed the presence of another being that could make him realize he is

still here.
Still alive.
Still able to be.

The lightest hints of honey
A rich muggy scent of dew
Scents of the east
As the sun slowly rises
Brilliantly orange and shockingly sweet
And the lightest hints of honey
Stirs your mahogany cup of brew
And the rich drops of dew
It's that which I breath
Your skin a perfume