Evening princess,
Her slow falling tears tell a story of mystery
Known for her beauty and rebel portrait
Picking the stars for earrings
Evening princess,
Unique night jewelry girl
Sincere kissing and toasting love in the moonlight
Vulnerable romantic and ocean necklace

© Matthew Goff

under the first breaths of timid boys, an unexpected hour of propeller anxiety, that comes to them like the everyday ambush of mornings.

Towards love my thoughts run high
But with regards to women
in seeking their embraces
through pursuit never I
No, my desires speed through the trees like cats
With one girl in mind
I stalk the idea
with feline and fierce appetite

She walks by wearing blue stockings in the rainy afternoon
Her youth is like a tender dream
She wears a pair of adolescent stars from her ears
All her boyfriends, when they speak, sound like cool rivers
In the sky-blue of the day
She smiles
The way lilac bushes crush petals into joy

Now three o’clock in the precious afternoon of torn cotton strands
School lets out a riot of sapphire glitter
Some girl stripes her vanilla ice cream cone with azure breathing
On seeing this she faints like a toss of sprinkles

She’s woken by blue candy kisses
Like a cluster of stars falling
From a boy
Upon her face
The constellation of a crush

As she gets up
A thousand blue ponies slide from her rain-water hair
Before disappearing in the distance
Young children mount them tackling flowers

She kisses him
And lets slide the sky-blue of the day from her lips
His arms fall like water around her body
As she turns, racing to make friends with
The twinkling blue of a butterfly’s eye

I Walk By

I walk by,
And never hear the word “***” uttered
I walk by,
And am surprised when people are polite
I walk by,
And people are moving too fast
I walk by,
And see people frowning in the rain
I walk by,
And see a crown of realization
I walk by,
And see a ritual of snow
I walk by,
And see confusing umbrellas in the snow
I walk by,
And there’s a convention with a zillion people. I sit next to people cursing

© Matthew Goff

Love leaps
Like a leopard
Light
While through
Evening flight,

Four smooth
Shiny blonde paws
Leave
Sharp scratches
Now
Delicate scars
Across night’s soft stars!

Grace
Glass movement
Beauty in speed
And you’re peacock wondrous
©

Along the pavement, still wet from her tears
I glide mouth open collecting these tiny spheres
A window open, while locks of hair part revealing a face
Pale!, with all the signs of a saddening race

Out-of-control pace I turn back just in that space
Of slippery steps which quicken the race
In consoling her, a lovely face!, if only
A spiral blue staircase would appear at the curtain-base

Butterflies fly through her hair
Carrying letters from the sky
Pretty language let the stars compete

She had shifted me ten degrees, to the right, from the sight of a cat dangling a villain from the roof. Its tiles had soon adjusted to my position now, configuring in unison to the discomforting moaning of breath sneaking out from the closet bedroom window. These roof-tiles now reflected ten different expressions on my face at once. “making up for lost time, eh?”, the villain stated generously.

© Matthew Goff

It is simply now a choice to feel naked. She feels it’s appropriate now to undress for the public which will soon follow her lead. Into the night, they will tear apart the conventional moral creed with ritual dance steps resembling tiger speeds!

A hunger for each other in the sweet winds
often blows a feather-blade against the skin
While glances shine off our bodies like
soft whips in the heart of sin

I love your licentious mouth
in waves of honesty spilling diamonds
An open language without shame
While embarrassing truths bleed out the games:

False arena in which we prey
upon another’s confusion, confusing the sane and
insane jewel of our wonder?

Inside the day, convulsions sweep me within the circular tide, whose currents endlessly root themselves along the shores of disappointing sentiments. Abandoning a singular precision, in using reverie with a blade to carve out the jewels with splendid contour, fashioned after the exquisite role of the past, I have failed to attract the elegant throats around which I stalk the beautiful endlessly.

I could appreciate her today. I had been watching those golden gestures compliment the frame of elegant houses. And for moments alone on a reflective sidewalk, I had forgotten what my face looked like. Yes, she was a whistler of pastel importance. A type of language only significant when the island pores of sensitive humans bleed open shamelessly and without counsel for their tears. The afternoons have a style all to their own, and I remember glass.

Jewelry
She’s dancing
Makeup and questions
Questioning glamour evening nights
©

The waves created a lady for me to talk to
I told her about you
She rose out of the water like an ocean bride
Someone else’s though
Some lucky lesbian siren perhaps
Or Neptune’s discreet mistress
I don’t know
We met each other in midair
I slowly leapt off the edge of the balcony
Gliding towards her over the sand
She levitated a moment before meeting me halfway
A conversation of crystal sadness begins
I told her my name and she told me hers
Her name was Transparency Flower

Curtains drape naked
She philosophy priestess
A necklace is found

Beneath the pulse of our lives
there bleeds a new laughter
A spider dune, seeds of cruel moons
--
Crowds who gather in sickening night
Mother teasing her gentleman’s cry
Hooray for the new talk
Ruined by its crooked walk
--
A tortured house spun from green silk
While children are nurtured ****** milk
A wretched web not yet built
A celebrated filth

© Matthew Goff

Inside the day, convulsions sweep me within the circular tide, whose currents endlessly root themselves along the shores of disappointing sentiments. Abandoning a singular precision, in using reverie with a blade to carve out the jewels with splendid contour, fashioned after the exquisite role of the past, I have failed to attract the elegant throats around which I stalk the beautiful endlessly.

Wild flowers dance
Under her feet celebrate
Afternoon princess

A certain romantic light plays with my senses the way liquid streets uproot steps random in their dances!
I love it when we smile in lamp-light seconds!
I can always desire you in temporary trances.
A poet at work is like when love strikes with lances!
You calm me in your green meadow romances.
I ask of you, introduce me to the fire of your glances.
At times I need to sleep with the integrity of historical stances.
I will remain myself however lonely in miles or milliseconds. To make a lover out of life is to ask the moon for a dance.
Whether or not she refuses I will continue to love our chances.

While on a beach, when she kissed me with the urgency of a sensitive poison, I could not help but scatter across the shore-lengths, the households of my heart, allowing room only for the remedy, I looked beyond her and forgot to make room for her smile, that went unnoticed fading as a shadow on my face.

Warm and white pillows on a bed of black night
I lie awaiting only you, nocturnal angel princess of secret flights
Over the clouds shall leap our light hearts and our eyes
Hand in hand in rescuing youth away the two of us will fly

O youth in tears over memories of pure delight
Hide not your face but let it shine this time
In the funeral of adulthood swine my right!
In kissing you I proclaim this precious life divine

© Matthew Goff

You’re evening pretty
All people have different looks
You’re evening pretty

Every night I lay into a pink sleep, which is the secrecy of her arm’s love for me. There is a solace for me in her eyes… if only I could live in their reflections forever! A landscape of exploding glass-works, that trickle wet stories down her beloved face. Into my dreams, they will fire an inscription of dazzling intimacies, in soft-blue storms of light. I want to run away with her down private roads, that glisten with the unrest of heartbeats.

"Let beauty influence the architecture of thought"

I saw her conducting sunlight
A sweating orchestra
Temperature theatre
The performance starting to melt

Let’s imagine summer girls in golden clothes
O how many of them dressed up like soft fires!
Black streets will melt under a trace of warm steps
While passersby offer sun-buttons and light-drenched smiles

Today, in lovely flames, many females now flooded
Celebrating in slow strides, the yellow-dances
Wandering aimlessly with wild winds in their hair,
A choir of sunbeams off their tongues flash the air
While, singing they begin a most tranquil street-fair

© Matthew Goff

Evening
Romantic whispers
Eyelashes are close
Youth and pretty innocence
They give soft nighttime rebellion
All the while crescent moon trembling
©

Crossing the train tracks
Hit in the face with love paint
Smiling crackle kiss

Like a dark-blue angel I walk these streets asleep
Spilling water-thoughts for my sky-blue girlfriend
And with much ease splashing about a serious desire
To express the fluidity in my style of loving her

With her pale-white precious face of a place
Upon that space the moon introduced a sister-image
And in winter’s name with delicate snow-like fame
Dressed my lover’s hands in white cotton gloves

Some girl stripes her vanilla ice cream cone with azure breathing

Kiss clash and love sparks
Explode old philosophy
Claw the new romance

Paint splattered princess
Palace of sisters and kings
The secret forest

O pure Sagittarius in light-blue dressed
Your outfit hugs kindly those delicate *******:
water-flowers the moon sprinkled down on your chest
On a sky-pillow your neck how gently it rests

Cloud of porcelain-white asleep in your perfume
The life you breathe into it a slumberous tune
Disrupts a cluster of stars happily may they resume
a ring of memories alive and with us soon

Rain
Pink puddles
Starts with kissing
Naked in the rain
They are searching wet bodies
While their ideas drip hot movement
The tender smooth fountain breaks wet walls
And an ocean crashes slowly and erupts sea-foam
©

Towards love my thoughts run high
But with regards to women
in seeking their embraces
through pursuit never I
No, my desires speed through the trees like cats
With one girl in mind
I stalk the idea
with feline and fierce appetite

Like a dark-blue angel I walk these streets asleep
Spilling water-thoughts for my sky-blue girlfriend
And with much ease splashing about a serious desire
To express the fluidity in my style of loving her

With her pale-white precious face of a place
Upon that space the moon introduced a sister-image
And in winter’s name with delicate snow-like fame
Dressed my lover’s hands in white cotton gloves

Secret worship in the eyelashes
Empty mirrors those eyes?
Or are they full of beauty and personal religion?
A heart that beats fast religion for the visual
Slow explosion
Glamour rain
Falls with the radiance of jewels
Upon the eyes
The satin of sparks
And I worship with **** breathing
A soft devotion like this can distance the heart
But one’s beauty is one’s happiness and excitement
An excitement competing with the world
A world where few things dazzle us
And inspire us to push our appetites into
The velvet arms of dawn
Or maybe that’s just the opinion of our
Worshipper of wet skies

let’s imagine summer girls in golden clothes
o how many of them dressed up like soft fires!
Black streets will melt under a trace of warm steps
While passersby offer sun-buttons and light-drenched smiles

Today, in lovely flames, many females now flooded
Celebrating in slow strides, the yellow-dances
Wandering aimlessly with wild winds in their hair,
A choir of sunbeams off their tongues flash the air
While, singing they begin a most tranquil street-fair

And if I go down in flames, let me go down in a freedom reflecting upon your laws a ferocious flower, staining the moment that you gave birth to hypocrisy!

I could appreciate her today. I had been watching those golden gestures compliment the frame of elegant houses. And for moments alone on a reflective sidewalk, I had forgotten what my face looked like. Yes, she was a whistler of pastel importance. A type of language only significant when the island pores of sensitive humans bleed open shamelessly and without counsel for their tears. The afternoons have a style all to their own, and I remember glass.

I am part of a secret race of bedfellows who, while draped in the rose linen of sleep, lash out at the dawn, a suffering enterprise, with a multitude of blinks, signaling revenge to the moon, my ally, which in the sized light of the sun, we can no longer see, yet, waiting until it sneaks up on the horizon, like an uninvited guest, our dreams will conspire in unison, like an army of winged blades, decapitating it in its own shine, leaving its bleeding fluid to sweat upon a flower, we will let it put butterflies to sleep!

Not only have I withdrawn into the depths of my imagination but have lingered there for some time now and results escape my consciousness like impatient fragments unprepared and dressed like foreign fire.

All stains will be misunderstood save those which design intuition upon our sleeves.

We must pay attention all over again!

She wears a necklace of *** dynamite
And love detonates the day
Conversations ignite
And honesty is spilled like water
©

I am part of a secret race of bedfellows who, while draped in the rose linen of sleep, lash out at the dawn, a suffering enterprise, with a multitude of blinks, signaling revenge to the moon, my ally, which in the sized light of the sun, we can no longer see, yet, waiting until it sneaks up on the horizon, like an uninvited guest, our dreams will conspire in unison, like an army of winged blades, decapitating it in its own shine, leaving its bleeding fluid to sweat upon a flower, we will let it put butterflies to sleep!

Like a dark-blue angel I walk these streets asleep
Spilling water-thoughts for my sky-blue girlfriend
And with much ease splashing about a serious desire
To express the fluidity in my style of loving her

With her pale-white precious face of a place
Upon that space the moon introduced a sister-image
And in winter’s name with delicate snow-like fame
Dressed my lover’s hands in white cotton gloves

She walks by wearing blue stockings in the rainy afternoon
Her youth is like a tender dream
She wears a pair of adolescent stars from her ears
All her boyfriends, when they speak, sound like cool rivers
In the sky-blue of the day
She smiles
The way lilac bushes crush petals into joy

Now three o’clock in the precious afternoon of torn cotton strands
School lets out a riot of sapphire glitter
Some girl stripes her vanilla ice cream cone with azure breathing
On seeing this she faints like a toss of sprinkles

She still speaks to me in ways familiar but with her glance sends over the light weapon of our memory in love. There are many sparklings in my head which have for themselves one name and her special touch alone. The movement in our kissing slides a satin wave from our lips. Oh sacred style of missing her lowers my palm collecting icicle-heart drips.

Feather-weight kisses he always misses with equally soft wishes for them it’s not fictitious.

As I lay back against her chest
Her arms around me hug the rest
Like bedside angels do their best
To calm the winds now laid to rest.

I breathe her in soft landscapes of airy music. To embrace her is to step into a castle made of blue fireworks. The scent of her neck sends me falling into the sea of lovely intoxicants. Her face is my favorite place to gaze at. She is the spectacle of any simple space.

The moments are lovely here as I approach her awaiting smile, glistening from just having said everything in blissful glances.

The satin flesh of her thighs
I watched them drape over me softly
With sweat dripping down each leg
Into beads of transparency exploding over the ankles!