Best Hypoglycemic Poems

Like magic,
It tingles from my lips to my toes. My eyes closed.
Music sells me tickets to my happy-place, 
and I forget the bad the sad the tragic,
Going further and circling to terra firma my conscious defects
The physical. 
As,
The beat hits home like a million Hiroshima’s,
The...

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It’s hard to tell if they’re playing tag,
or thrusting nectar-drunk love at each other—
mid-June attempts at getting it.

Maybe they’re fighting over first flowers—
legs twitching in hypoglycemic half-paralysis,
like the buzz of waking mid-vacation,
still dazed, muscles aching, but that stinger,
coiled stiff for the week. 

Their terror-tails would...

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