Slow motion crash kiss
Afternoon lightning with them
Exploding models

I need to turn these days
into attractive dust
moments left abandoning
a selfish recreation
of secrets employing
their own role in
a landscape of desperate longing

like an angel whose inconsistent stability
will disappoint the
courts of categorical righteousness
tossing into the wind of verdicts
a rebel leaf that will
someday find its way
into the bedrooms of anxious jurors
showing once and for all
the impermanence of contentment

© Matthew Goff

She combs pink planets through her hair
Galaxy girlfriend face
It’s space travel there and everywhere
Saturn question and comet care
Strangers tread lightly
©

A heated swell of perfume
Dripping from his lover’s cheek
Welcomes many more feelings to surrender
Than the windshield reveals now

Driving upon waterfall roads
Couples are seen as fashionable animals
While the starlet sisters giggle
Behind trees where winds sneak around
Carefully.

While the passengers slide upon each other’s laps, a ruffling of clothes is heard in a car nearby. The naivete of subtle experience may someday welcome someone to slip along the sweaty steps of pleasure-stained pools: The ****** Congregation, where the logistics of the court presume “Not Guilty” indefinitely. For temptation is more than desire in Vain, but human curiosity. We can only predict our immediate future and what certain components are to be gained up until a certain point. But new found treasures lie awaiting our innocent stumble, many instances where a courtship often leads to a garden of rose-colored garter belts. Which serve in replacement for telephone wire strung above homes whose tenants excitedly plan for the next affair.

© Matthew Goff

The altar in my church rests invisibly beside her lips and I begin all my prayers inside her mouth. This is where I worship the divine. And this is where I feel most at home. While kissing, I can feel saliva waves splash our senses. And everything takes on the quality of water.
© Matthew Goff

BILLY: do you think some people take their medication on the moon?
LISA: I think most people do, not counting zebras
BILLY: I think they’re faking it
LISA: they have no reason though, except for seagulls
BILLY: what do you mean?
LISA: you know, seagulls, adventure, rebel kisses
BILLY: oh that
LISA: well at least it’s peppermint flavored
BILLY: candy ways

© Matthew Goff

I sing the grace of the individual!
I met a jewel today,
Patch her into the rainbow.
Beauty is not enough
There must be grace.
Beautiful treatment of others.
This world a garden of manners to cultivate.

© Matthew Goff
The Swan Club

Are you anxious, my dear evening? Are you not my closest friend? (Where is your cousin, my memory?) Can you not wait until that one afternoon, when we will pounce upon the horizon, like cats in heat, and tear the sun apart limb from limb? We will leave its sensitive shine to sweat upon pathetic days no more! Yes, the evening is a villain I’m proud to call my friend. Her ways allow much more room in the playground for mischievous  lovers, than those dull afternoons spent thinking about breathing. Where is your cousin, my memory? She has served a type of convulsively appreciative use for my feelings and continues to parade around my daydream swing set. Nonetheless, she has always remained a spectral participant in my life, pregnant with regret, and punctures my comfortableness with the sweetest of stings, leaving a taste with me she knows I’ll never forget.

Streets are wet with tears
Lipstick guiding sister smiles
And she combs sadness
©

Blue dragon mistress
Swimming through changes
Kingdom of royal movement
The queen is too young for him
Romance within arm’s reach
©

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!

Are you anxious, my dear evening? Are you not my closest friend? (Where is your cousin, my memory?) Can you not wait until that one afternoon, when we will pounce upon the horizon, like cats in heat, and tear the sun apart limb from limb? We will leave its sensitive shine to sweat upon pathetic days no more! Yes, the evening is a villain I’m proud to call my friend. Her ways allow much more room in the playground for mischievous  lovers, than those dull afternoons spent thinking about breathing. Where is your cousin, my memory? She has served a type of convulsively appreciative use for my feelings and continues to parade around my daydream swing set. Nonetheless, she has always remained a spectral participant in my life, pregnant with regret, and punctures my comfortableness with the sweetest of stings, leaving a taste with me she knows I’ll never forget.

© Matthew Goff

A dancer was arrested one night
For stringing leopard skins across
The windowsills of houses whose
Inhabitants were all court officials

The bones however were left for the judge, that next morning displayed in the shape of his wife, leaning over the kitchen sink cleaning dishes for the breakfast  he never again would let her prepare, the meat was left for the jury to taste and decide if it was all worth it.

© Matthew Goff

I know of pink corners in the mind: Forest of sweet perfumes, whose travelers lend a hand to the ******* of sunset and its nervous mapping of amateur stars. There is a moment’s history in the certainty of salivating worlds: An odyssey for lovers who play cards at night and whose ideas for strategic foreplay are used like stilts. Hovering over a table, soaked with invisible juices, they are found flirting with each other’s secret personalities—heirs to the hormonal vibration of wet thoughts.

While passing along a shiny strip made by the street glamour of cars, moving to the rhythms of wishes fashioning a most coveted secret.

I am content with an inner radiance showing her off in my thoughts. Down here the lights are an old girlfriend that remembered I like the flirting backbone of highways…

My golden girlfriend
A lioness in the sunlight
She brings me
While melting kisses still shine on my lips
Elegant waterfall hair
Blonde as a daydream dreaming yellow mares
Liking her a sunflower crown becomes new religion
She introduced the sun to me
In the flamboyant light of her style and being
Myself, already a worshipper
As I’m sure she’s princess of the wild tribes
Now they’re passions for the sunlight shades
Slow spinning with blonde desire towards the
casual dance of new attraction
Sagittarius and Leo running together ignite
the day with spontaneous heat
Spark of tender amber in the eyes
Turns to burning embraces
A drop of gold in my black crown

Slow change into the wild arms of sunlight
Leaves me exciting
While in her company our glowing faces
Like lions after loving
Leave golden fire traces

There is no contentment in my life, save only those small fires that burn fantasies into my sleep. When I lay down immediate into my troubled rest or a nest of night-heartbeats, life fades away from the palace of my imaginings in life. There are worlds so obviously preferred here.

If so, then dream away dear mystic and feast on your sleep!

Lovely escape back into the silver satin folds of nocturnal slumber. My dazzling light-blue ocean rolls memories off the crest of sharp waves.

A young boy had just dove off the roof of his house, the moment I caught sight of two maple trees wrestling with each other in the orange mists of a teenage sneeze, in which their bed of flowers caught the boys fall, in the warm sheets prepared by the nurse disguised as this autumn breeze.

There were of course hallucinations played out in the mind while on September stilts!

Here we sit together in a park
Of splendid rumors
A dawn of turbulence bathed in
The glamorous shine of scandal
Yes indeed we have heard stories
Apart from each other we consider
A silent jewel to be an
Accomplice to the nature of
Ambiguity

You must think I disassemble my personality
To ****** a blue foam
A trickle fire erupting its
Blossom water on the edge
Of my nose
We have argued to speak no longer
Of a cuddling electric sea friend
Unless we are under the fragile net
Of sleep draped with angelic murmur
Watching in ***** position I
Helped the sun turn our
Arrangement into attractive dust
Dust however will be left

Not to chase across infested
Roads
Yet counting how many particles
Explode the roofs off an
Unappreciative town
One by one and with all that
Is familiar with the multitude
Of destructive glory
Fashioning a farewell sigh and
Letting our hands tremble
Ten stories above our rhyme
We cursed the wind leaving
A mystery drowning

A sky invades itself the way lampshades collapse on their elegant red bulbs.
Lovely antique fabrics wrap themselves around heat-waves copulating with light.
The color of blood melts down a rose petal in celestial gardens.
A certain shade of burgundy supports a flower dive!
Liquid falls into the curtain folds of this cranberry swaying pageantry.

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

Girl gives sunshine smile
A boy reacts with the moon
Galaxy flirting
©

People come off the train like glass dancers
Choreography of rudeness
Those rushing leave shards
Insincere in the wings

Conversations are  trampling us

Spend time with me sister! The sister I know I don’t have, a confusing passenger in my mind, that continues to bleed upon the apple-peels in my daydreams, where has your real reason for being envisioned burrowed? Is it not beneath the coal-white heated sands of my misbehavior? Or in the convenient pleasures of misjudgment. Either way your whisper wasn’t loud enough for my distracted eyes, those mobile shells recording the affairs of a race in which I am far behind, far too interested in spying on the obvious I often rest.

Hot pink umbrella
Contrasts the dreary rain
And maybe ****

Let beauty influence the architecture of thought

All of this dreaming came first with a silent knock upon the glass. At least one of the girls had pretended to. Three redheads pressed each other’s bodies up in the corner, huddling as if they were some team about to spring their paws across some morality clause.

Pink tights and black boots
Waiting for a mystery
Windswept questions lie

Above all let’s escort desire into loving waters
Our prayers will suffice among the waves
Celebrating in kisses our gentle revolt
Putting faith in the tides and our wet embrace

Liquid churches you might say
float along the ocean
We who throw parties in the sea-spray
are known for our fluid devotion

Sondra goes to a bar, and at some point during the evening requests that a sonata be played, the bartender looking surprised says “I don’t have anything like that”, Sondra reaches into her coat pocket and hands the bartender a cd saying “track 4 please”, the bartender lets the current song finish and then plays the cd, it’s Haydn, and the people in the bar start to look shocked, a person goes up to her and says “you know there are places where they play this sort of thing, like restaurants”, Sondra replies “yes I know but I like coming to bars and listening to that music”, another person says “I like it too, it’s soothing somehow and different than what we always hear.”

© Matthew Goff

Against white flowers fragile memories clashed
And split the pollen structures with glass exploding past
Thin columns of crystal in this flower architecture smashed
Into lullaby shards with edges quickened the past
Against whose bedroom in this green-garden-flash, my eyes
A whirlwind of tears have lashed!

Held the hand of my bride
Stars explode around her
Teaching beauty to the world
-
Alone at the beach
Playing with ***** and solutions
A seahorse bites your finger
Questions unanswered

© Matthew Goff

I walked across the street and met a cheetah queen
I asked her the time
And she said it was half past the hour of proposals
Youth married to night
Adventure honeymoon
Celebration of falling kisses

If, by some boundary, I am not able to act on your physical shape, then I will make love to you still, using words, I will describe a carnival on the edge of your lips!
©

They just came off the carousel
And now they will roam and
Wander with blissful stares

I will soon join them, hoping
To find wild women and
Coconut lotions

We will be free, we’ll dance
And swim

They just came out of the water
And now they will journey
Into the night’s mystery

I will soon join them, excited
To discover new voices in
New places

We will be free, we’ll talk
To one another and share our
Lust for experience

They just came out of the
Woods and now they will
Sleep with their lovers, awaiting
The blink of dawn

To pursue an unnatural passion
more sacred to me than any other life lived
Is an adventure
Hung over the palace of desire like a dancer
Head thrown back
Like the slow flash of a jewel
Her limber body bent
Her waist hugged by voluptuous shadows
She almost dangles
Like *** the play of kittens clawing invisible velvet lovers
With one arm raised
Held within a hand of indifference to everything else
That which she imagines for herself and her beloved

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.

During the month of October people eat pumpkin
The queen is nowhere to be found
A famous gymnast gives lessons
A train conductor also teaches History
Cursing while doing cartwheels
A couple is going to the movies in leopard coats
The question is pizza or dirt

Whirlwinds in bedroom
Bodies flying with kisses
Late at night friendships

Two half-naked bodies whirling about in the streets. Our thoughts pillowed against soft winds that blow a friendly touch under our skin. To explore love with a stranger is not a sin save for those intentional grins. A shoulder of yours exposed in this light flashed against my eyes. Already a tender friendship with your body. Watching your eyes watch me watching us with calm degrees intending such. Your awkward smile is beautiful because it is sincere. A nervous breeze encircles our waist and words disguise a melody unchaste. To make a love out of meeting you is the same love preceding you each time an effort is made in completing two.

I know of pink corners in the mind: Forest of sweet perfumes, whose travelers lend a hand to the ******* of sunset and its nervous mapping of amateur stars. There is a moment’s history in the certainty of salivating worlds: An odyssey for lovers who play cards at night and whose ideas for strategic foreplay are used like stilts. Hovering over a table, soaked with invisible juices, they are found flirting with each other’s secret personalities—heirs to the hormonal vibration of wet thoughts.

Leopard
Safari whistle
And mercury moonbeam
She’s always astrology asking
Why not your **** swimming-pool?
Looking forward to beach horizon banquet
Silver in the moonlight a dusty companion
©

Sunshine girlfriend
Held her hand through the blonde waves of the afternoon
Daytime explosion
The warmth of her clothing
It’s sensual sunlight

© Matthew Goff

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.

I rise again
From rough American ashes of the past
Like a dark brown eagle
With eyes full of his loving blonde girlfriend
I strike slowly
Gathering the momentum of love
Through the satin country of my fantasies
Do I strike with new care?
Or finally slow explosion sparks illuminate the air
Lanterns of disgust
I whisper darts into them
And swing from wild branches into the cities
I pass by with ruby eyes
And smile at soon to be saturated citizens
The crowds sparkle because they’re in love with
Something before I got there
I’m lighting matches everywhere
Trying to start bonfires of awareness
And fierce love inspiration
While pointing out the most tender stars

Our country alive with tiger eyes
And swift yet sometimes slow
Gorgeous human behavior

Above all let’s escort desire into loving waters
Our prayers will suffice among the waves
Celebrating in kisses our gentle revolt
Putting faith in the tides and our wet embrace

Liquid churches you might say
float along the ocean
We who throw parties in the sea-spray
are known for our fluid devotion

Paint splattered princess
Palace of sisters and kings
The secret forest

Sara’s smile a wave
Soft spark oceans of kisses
Paul dreaming away

I know of pink corners in the mind: Forest of sweet perfumes, whose travelers lend a hand to the ******* of sunset and its nervous mapping of amateur stars. There is a moment’s history in the certainty of salivating worlds: An odyssey for lovers who play cards at night and whose ideas for strategic foreplay are used like stilts. Hovering over a table, soaked with invisible juices, they are found flirting with each other’s secret personalities—heirs to the hormonal vibration of wet thoughts.

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.