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matt r Mar 16
the soft curve of chance
                              could not bite me

(though sometimes i wish it would)

but fashion a path
                   that takes me to heaven



almost skyward - you
                                      yet equally so
                                             armward
draped head in gold&sunlight with
your planetary blaze
maybe less avessel for life but more
                                           incendiary
,electric,plasmic & so not crystalline

despite your form,inspiteof how you
shimmer & dance & fadein&out of it



you are the future i see when i sleep
my temple to your hip

it is my temple;

your hip
matt r Mar 16
[a one-time coin
                                in the pocket of]
the verb 'to be'

i could cycle through my zoetrope
life & grab the belly fat of fortune;

his lifepink scar
                            bleedinghardtruth
matt r Mar 12
i ; moonhooks

she shone like an astigmatism

i watched her arms
                              like radiance
  grab each corner of the sky
     & hang it on moonhooks

bleeding,began to melt the day
& i felt her wash
                   down my shoulders

i tasted her then
    & saw her (clearer than ever)



ii ; rockshine

she shone like an astigmatism

in a more
                 wo/rld
                            bre(ak)ing
                      ­                        way

   crystalline, the sky scattered
rockshine like lunar bredcrums
     &    4    one    point    three    
   seconds
                  i felt her on my skin
matt r Mar 12
she crumbled,
                                   out of
the envelope & into
                               my palm

  dissolved into my fingers
in her own world breaking
                                         way

in there,where two magpie
sit                      cross-legged,
the air carries kismet like a
newborn                     crying
    at the very semblance
of the long      walk     away.
matt r Mar 9
i think of your back

& mine, like the in
                              side
ofaspoon

oh yours!

not quite so concave
                             but
a soft&flexing blade

regaled with silver.
matt r Mar 8
palm        unreserved (by air)
but filled so (like it owns me)

there is space in my

arm                unslept on
where you (are my) rest

& space in my

shoulder           undreamt &
airgapped (so blancficially)

there is space in my
bed

not fate's       (nor maybe's)
but mine's      now (for you

& you                                  

& you                  

& you)
matt r Mar 8
she curls out the window
& turns freeform,

into such a thing
                                  like
how i inhale her

,the harsh creamsoothing
of ice water calms

the red light down.
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