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don't be so formal!
I put my pants on every day,
over my head,
just like everybody else,
just like a {you,man}

it helps me see better,
two pants legs,
one for each eye

it narrows the focus,
makes you care
where you tread,
where you t-read,
so when you write poetry,
you write
more slowly,
put one foot
or one eye,
before the next,
so you don't post
***** like this
don't fall for their tales,
their trapping words
intended to capture all manner of
literary loving girls...
while they, these mopoets^ are perfectly content
to keep on looking
"for the perfect one..."
to write about,
the greatest love affair in all of
his-story

but only after getting first
a close dose of,
a teeming taste of<
her
"inspiration"

He tells them that
after the first date,
he'll go home thinking:

"I could drink a case of you"*

but usually but a glass,
at most,
a bottle, a month,
a satisfactory suffice,
and it's onto the next write

that's why the FBI labelled him,
a dangerous serial poet,
his mot
to be trusted,
not, no, no...no!


Ah men! Ah poets!
somebody should pass a law....

4:03am
meanwhile it is nearing six years...as she likes to say, she picked me out of a lineup, and
fingered me instantly(as-a-bad boy!)

^Mopoets = male only poets
from my bed
I watch
3 birds
on a telephone
wire.

one flies
off.
then
another.

one is left,
then
it too
is gone.

my typewriter is
tombstone
still.

and I am
reduced to bird
watching.

just thought I'd
let you
know,
******.
little dark girl with
kind eyes
when it comes time to
use the knife
I won't flinch and
i won't blame
you,
as I drive along the shore alone
as the palms wave,
the ugly heavy palms,
as the living does not arrive
as the dead do not leave,
i won't blame you,
instead
i will remember the kisses
our lips raw with love
and how you gave me
everything you had
and how I
offered you what was left of
me,
and I will remember your small room
the feel of you
the light in the window
your records
your books
our morning coffee
our noons our nights
our bodies spilled together
sleeping
the tiny flowing currents
immediate and forever
your leg my leg
your arm my arm
your smile and the warmth
of you
who made me laugh
again.
little dark girl with kind eyes
you have no
knife. the knife is
mine and i won't use it
yet.
there is always that space there
just before they get to us
that space
that fine relaxer
the breather
while say
flopping on a bed
thinking of nothing
or say
pouring a glass of water from the
spigot
while entranced by
nothing

that
gentle pure
space

it's worth

centuries of
existence

say

just to scratch your neck
while looking out the window at
a bare branch

that space
there
before they get to us
ensures
that
when they do
they won't
get it all

ever.
I want to breathe in,
And breathe out.
Inside my head,
Inside my soul,
It is all blurred
And hazy.
I see the ineffable feelings,
The thoughts
Have bedahsed all over.
They have efficiently
Crushed my joy
And have made me bitter.
All suffocated.
I can't fetch the problems,
That are jeopardizing
My happiness everyday abit more.
I can't find a way out
Of this suffocation.
To let my heart
Breathe in the joy,
To be vulnerable.
It is all dark in here.
So dark,
I can't see things
******* the happiness
Out of me.
I can't **** them out.
I fail to.
I want to escape this place,
This place, pierces tears into my eyes.
I want to escape this place,
All i want is to,
Breathe in.
And breath out.
In the silent vicinity Inside me,
The void that is expanding with my thoughts,
Echoes only a few trance ,
The tune on which we used to dance.
Keeping him alive inside me,
Breathing in the smell of his clothes,
Remembering His words, his oaths
It is a shame They all broke.
Wanting him to change back
Into what he had always been,
But now his bones Had found a place.
In his patient eyes,
She found solace.
Seasons were meaningless months now.
She had nobody to share the Sweltering summer,
To stand beneath the rainbow.
To see the exquisite autumn sunsets,
Nobody to warm her in The winter snow.
In the silent vicinity inside me,
Echoes the voice of his chords.
The stories of his soul.
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