there is the world so much i think i have felt it

have felt by it
and by it felt

so much it
(the world)

who in droves presses ugly Spring against me
who in heards comes dying and immortal
who in sleeping flowers laughs most
(the world

by sting invisible
impulses each rotund death
of lungs upon heaps of dying
to go out and wear more gladly it

it girls laughing
it boys sweating to be first
it arcuate of hips
it thundering of industry
it of millions tinly each


each pointless
each fathomless
each more than last
each next than other
each the other than the next

i think and i have seen by it
and have i?
way north over the barn where goes the winter
when in neatish crimson hulking ****** comes

first small coming

then steadily gargantuan

Summer

in deep veins of failing gold
only to brittle
only to fold and tousle
only to rubble and quake

alas

and i have thought

alas

and i have read

alas

and i have felt so proud to get at the meanings of poems

) but ever have i known it?

No.

i have not been my feet to push of it a million splendors

i have not been my throat to scream so loud my body shook

i have not been amongst its people

i have not tasted

i have not been by the skinny bank of a winding stream in the middle of Summer when the cool water tickles across the span of each toe the wholeness of being

i have not kissed so long to love

i have not breathed so long to speak

what then can i say?
but do i say it?
of course

i say it by hands between quick thighs
uncurling hurting bruises of hot sharpness

i say it in the hunched play of a girl's wetness

i say it in the calm stroke of a withered dog's scalp

i say in quiet moments as in loud moments

i speak(and i always speak)

and i think i have the world so much by it felt as to know it

and i think i do not know it

and i think it is not so much

and i think i have not felt it

twice as grace
the earth in molded flames
it spake with candor drunk with poppies
bursting unanimously
from his mouth

first love,
in whose body
my soul is made,

                                  the whiteness:
                                  your crisply
                                of
                      ­        scent
                            is like
                          when
                        parts­
                      the long
                   night
                     budding
                        the crimson
                     tooth
                   of
                       dawn
                    'pon
      
           the edged back
           thinness of
           mountain hair


(growing fairly towerish
it sprouts
as sprouts the sea
the freshest breath of life
to take by inimitable quavering
the softness of mind to depart
knowing

                      and kiss into

           the sweetness of darkness      (



                                w
            ­                     h
                                 ere

              sleep is
              nice
                              and
        
  ­                  comely wilting snow
                    on the blade of heat
                                     '
                                     ;
                                     .

terrible. O fleck, downy gusseted
sharpness keenly hidden, cruel
barbed softness coddled sweet
blade of permitting lips, allowed
hurtness of ivory shoulders,
                                                     tremble
                                                                     shoulders
                                                                                        : you wanted (you didn't) didn't you?)
                                                                                          my roughness, Dear, my words
                                                                                          hard(handharder,)Dear: snownecked
                                                                                          doe(white)the neatness of your
                                                                                          body wrecked?the pen dipped?ink
                                                                                          blot spreading?Dear for pain, you
                                                                                          need

                                                                                                         ?you
                
                                                                                                                       ,I

                                                                                                                               ,asked


                                                                                                                                               ,want me

                                                                                                                                 to


                                                                                                            hurt?said you,


                                                                                                                   PLEASE
                                                                                                                                  .

raise the day
on salted ash
the earth is stilled
in noble glass

a gilt punch of harder redder
a golden scrape, dying never

the nights a bruise
a bruising sleep
who's face is ruse
a rousing meat

the gloating love of breathing daring
the precious heart of reckless caring

Today is well
a well so deep
your pleasant face
i'll surely keep

        (in chamber,
         vermilion sore
         a giddy place
         from words do pour

        "my hands art night
          my fists art day
           i've come to thee
            so let us play"

OF this I,m sure:       my hands

     are

little hammers pontificating on your head
a hard oval split and ******* of your tender blood
i wonder maybe why you don't try(atleast)to move
a bit. shift maybe slightly. but i don't think you can
so i guess

    i    will maybe

          keep maybe

yes(iwill)

               keep gently


    smashingyourface

curl upon my words lady
your fragile strongness

             your
     firm and quaking ultimate mouth

(the hottest slash o' pleasure
leakinginto
                    mymouth
                                     you're)
cheek
          a    n     dcheekbe
                                         tw
                                                 ee
                                                  n
                                           h
                                     a
                             n
                                     g
                                                s A strand o' lace
                                                       and i dig my
                                                       fingers into them
                                                       and pry, by naked
                                                       furious hands, that
                                                       last trace of unnudity
                                                       (and i pull you up to my face(your startled perfect ***)a     n             dd ie,
                                                                                                                                                                                     .
                                                                                                                                                                                         ,

                                                                                                                                                                                  .

at a set low evening

                                    (longlean evening)

                                     the city is let out
                                                                  
                                     a distilled yowl

                                     frothing neon
      
                                     glib determined

                                     for skin and the svelte curl of a girl's lips
                                     as i pass her on the street and my lids
                                     flick a smart wink on every inch of
                                     legs sprouted of a waist curved
                                     right at the nicest angle
                                     carving the pallid air
                                     in a short skirt
                                     and has a
                                     mouth
                                     i'd like to get inside of curling on my asIpass wink

up against moon chimney
a city newly fragranced

       SprinG

like quickness sputtering
with young lean night
sinuous with boysandgirls
laughing
                  with each other
at how nice the sun was
by the lake and little crests
of smiles imp their cheeks
(and my cheeks
                            at how
lovely they are and against
springnight young with
them seems even warmer)

i love
(the feel of)
her
{teeth}

one time there was a last night
of stars moistly spilt by sabled
cheeks of eve there was a starling
immediately two maybe yes 2
starlings perhaps there were
raucous cruel and winged starlings
that stood briefly against the sky
trees and a small path twained
them there was clovers and a whole
field of them looked so nice in
that last night they looked peaceful
and i almost laid right down in them
and slept

the defined of nothing of chaste finite summer,
you of primrose heat
you of whitely stroked youth
you of pale and freckled dumb beauty
you of faultless poppied fields, sick with colour

you, Summer, neat of hands, sticky of lip
blunder sweetness: candied sighs of limp fragrant
earth, Summer, the deepest languor of thy supple
thighs, eat. laugh. die.

unsheathe
your soul
show me
your heart

i'm gasping
for air
as i
drown
in your art

she is beauty
a violent pulsing *****
   sweetly of sinew or nerves
     gasping skeleton writhing
       naked olive livery screaming
                  i like her
         garden. with my tongue. a folding
scent of poesy in small poems i cannot write
      in 2 hearts scratching painful din of
cringing light. on her ventricles enameled my enormous
healthy blood; she rages quietly; an ocean scalping
   the coalesced lips i shatter on her belly
and her clergy of ***. i am dumb my naked perfect blade
    so put in me
                          you're
                                      god

drizzled with beads
of shimmering light
you cry like a god
as you writhe
in the night

the splint to mountains trollop
and ecstasy of luminous death
a sunging light is hurdy gurdy
and
            to behind
their rocky stiffened pose
it's a plunging ***** of deeply laughing violet

a thing is often fuzz on the blankness
foisting up to resonate superlative
most facets of itself into thy glossy
marble roundness fray of inconstant
sensations

.                                                                ­                         Q
                                                               ­                        u
                                                               ­                             i
                                  ­                                                              e
 ­                                                                 ­                          t

                                    ­                                                        O,

     ­                                                                 ­                       though
                                                          ­                             woh
                                                             ­                                little
                                                          ­                          ylgnis
                                ­                                                             you
                                                             ­                            era

                                                            ­                                :
                               ­                                                   soft and crisp;

                                                         ­                    won't you enter me

                                                             ­                 the gentleness (your unsound)?

          
                                                                ­                             I
                                                               ­                                 n
                              ­                                                                 ­    c
                                                               ­                            r
                                                               ­                         e
                                      ­                                               a
                                                               ­                             S
                                  ­                                                           i
                                                               ­                             n
                                  ­                                                          g

    ­                                                                 ­      by voice and unvoice
                                                         ­                  the white song: living?

                                                 O Quiet and you are so i think you are beautiful
                                                       ­  in your shoulders and in your neck i think
                                                           ­      you are increasingly beautifuler
                                                     ­                      than doused in night
                                                           ­                     and stars earth.

o   t      d                 w   to      FRIDAY harbor            w     s
    h                          e                               ­             i        a       o
   i        a       I        n                                            t        s ­      r
s       y                t                                               ­                 t
                                              ­                                     of

                 gorgeous
a peeling ember of light
pomped and glutted
serenely basking
a fleshless
glove                                                of­        light
                                                   ­                  all over the bay
                                                             ­        and twiddling
                                                       ­              my skin
                                                            ­         between the little shops
                                                           ­          i was
                                                             ­        and i was

i speak let's say i speak and let's say i sing
whatthen?i sing; i say
whitely of your lips
i sing by them
i am lifted by them

they come beneath each foot
they come their strongness leaping
they come, and Dear, you
by them you charge

and Dear

against them Summer's dull

it shines not
it heats not
it feels not sudden or serene

for though it golden rushing thunders
your lips are far more perfect wonders

a who
so what
that nays
or nary
a not
a knot of narys
guggled to
from shrill    th
                    roat
                                                            she called the kettle B
                                                         l
                                                              ack

autumn your neck is ivory straight unfleecing goldly
and brownly thousands neat, flutter
each gorgeous beneath each
piling drifts swiftly sets
on edge
crisp morning

(who is unstrange gentle and has hair thicker than)

pitter-patter
p i
  t
t    erp     at
t
                er
      pit       t  e      r
p   i t t  e     rp a     t        ter
minute feet
  
                  a s
       l                  h)
  p              
(s

in dappling puddlespuddling
in
half lit
hallways
as grandfather's clock coruscates deep
vibrations through this midnight hour
i
peer
         through
                        the
                             vine
                                   caked
frameless translucent notion of thought
                 onto
the pasture of this my memory
                                                      of
                                  a
           midnight
past




                                                         ;

i have said mountains
lazy clumps of clumsy
mountains, i have  said
them, arching oceans of gasping
instant sleep. I have crumbled
perspiring cheeks loose with
bulging moonest light. torn
flaky moonest nights. i have
halved twains and quartered
thirds. yet.
.     .
                   i could not say thee
i could not say thy lavish cup of shoulders
       thy prism of corrupting
sensible insane ***
                                 thy baffling and hoary flecks
of burning frost. scattered smoothing rapidly.
      i could not say thy instant muscles gradually.

you said
"                 ME
         "

it came about i graced higgly piggly (to saunter, generally, my flayed marble in the gross determined light( winter specially came upon all the arbor straights slatting it correctly,

my i
listens t( 2)o
the night
whisper
w
hisper
w his per

wh is
perwhisperwhisperwhisperwhisperwhisper w
h is
p[
e






r]

down the ups of the very backs of streets
just skirting the very edges of napes
the cities slightly tickled little hairs rushing
up it's thighs, colluding thickly bushy
barely about it's "ooch!" it's "ow!"
it's youth rimmed slouching pocket
hollow fully bursting. empty so crowding
tightly packed cheeks, clumps of giddy
gurgling songs pumped lazy chords
they sickly punch the nooks and crannied
edges flourishing the rainbow bright
chatter of lungs that taste the air so
healthy and so long. "Tonight, as the day
goes 'Wee!' over the ******* wallop
we"ll higgle wiggle in it's corpse
our skulls and merry bones to
frothing jowls overwhelmed with boisterous
young hearts supping it's crudlicious
pillow, supple and rotting gums
the large lit teeth of whom bust
right to heaven while we fling about
their oblong towers our shales
of *** and magic;

superior flavor mingles with arrogant aromas cascading into perception consuming all conscious thought as wet struggles to find its phlorescent strength you bleed every color dripping red/blue/green/violet streams upon the cold linoleum your pale shell the most beautiful thing my i has ever beheld and i want you so badly that every electron in my physical metaphor trembles with such aching desire that i want to tear off all my notions and become a something that isn't

dying's like
(hot between swift thighs)

a gush
of wires cloven

minglin'
(wit' fingers cloaked in)

the *** of youth's wet sublime

i liked the night
         a morsel of arguing light
     with the morose chimney stacks
and gratuitous roofs
they wetted with creamy distilled lunar ****
and whisper beveled nothings
at the screaming silence


  !

little                                                           ­                                                                 ­                                     bird



                                            

                                           the






                                                       ­                             tinly



                           ­                                                         kissing
­



                                                             ­                         of your wings


                                                         ­                             in the always






                                                    ­                                   stooping to kiss






                                                      ­                                  brightly morning are










                                                   ­                                   a perhaps song











                                                 ­                                                                 ­                                                    like
        ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­                   (little bird)
                                                           ­                                                                 ­                                  the velvet
                                                          ­                                                                 ­                                 pocket of a
                                                               ­                                                                 ­                           violin



















                                       ­                                   rising























­
                                                                ­     chord
























                                   ­                                 'pon























    ­                                                                 ­             chord

























                     ­                                                             to the
























                                        ­                                         slender fragile aching


























                                ­                                                        immeasura­ble pretty



































                       ­                                                                 ­    of sky
















                                             ­                                                forever

summer enormously frail fringed and golden
summer arguing with timidity
with youth and tangled
laughter gargling
low streets strung
lights mellifluously
straddle amberly the
nape of silently
and beginning
suddenly light
over asphalt
springs leaping
the mountains over
and
        SpLaSh!irides
                                 of
      3 petals and 3 drooping sepals
    glow gently
   caressed
                          at
       handless *******
       white

               ,

     .

         ,


.

in the curious forgetful wings
         of pallid darling sleep
your ******* areso a shimmering
flock of ardent lumps
my humors colic
                                (i twice and 1nce)
my vague and distinct mouth
to huddle on their splendor
my charming and my spit

i'm not impressive
                                                      ­  (and i never will be.
                                                             ­                             .
                                  ­                                                         '
                                                               ­                            ,
                                                               ­                             '
                                  ­                                                        ,
       ­       
                    
                                                                ­                                      '
                         ­                                                          .

do not go there are trees and how many who knows the world is round in Spring and fat in Spring is the far wonder of somewhere the chickadees of smooth sweltering dolls with their dulleyed limp mouths and they don't say a "******* word"

soft islands
in pale ocean

your pink trees

tastesogood

shudder

to ***** on the finger of my body

youthere

is a small blood

a drooping bead

           of(hangs



in fracturing silence)

twixt rigidly supple youth
collects(



                    A



                                Bruise




                                                  Slowly



                                                                     Larger



                                                                                                   )





                                                                                  a
                                                                                 nd
                                                                                the
                                                                              moon
                                                                              playf
                                                                             ully is


                                                                   slender




                                                                                            crescented


                                                                 wiggles



                                                                                           hard


                                                                     with


                                                                                           my


                                                                           fingers



                                                                                    tightly

                                                                               in
                                                                                         it

                                                                               SCREAMS

there is an old man who is dying inside me
he lies by a pale ocean
his eyes are and mouth mouth crawls with
ladybugs Spring is there
her lips are full of chafe and brightness hangs
about a flower less
petals each into the wind next to a pale ocean
where there is an
old man who inside of me is dying

palest inch of human health
who fringed at the edges with
hurting and raw pink a little
like a tulip on the faintly
murdered hush of caving night
is slick with wetness
                      
                   (petals, stem, and earth)

digs a root into breathless miles
of rich, wanting,

                                  dirt

loose shadow skir.t
bough broken light

      pillars

hide our crafty finger
painted cheeks

            (lilting grooves reposit
             shady bones rolling
             grave bound)

we won't be for much longer
so just giveth thy. in verdant
dark flecked chastity

so heart tightly unopen
in packed a whooping
collared beast niggles
sharply by fingers mostly
hands' unfurled in
a star of dreaming wars

the lightest and body
feeblest is strongest
nearly firmer than
softest barely weaker

and flowers
(a big spit of petals)
burning thigh deep
into waded Edward
after him i'm
leaping freshness
of my complete mystery
ripens against darkness

dashing(withclosedeyes)
on the mouth of the sun
where is set my teeth
the silver and her moon


                                                          ­                                               ,

mouth quickly incredible tripping with youth meekly feels
moist, single, and crimsonly accelerates two bent velvet
lengths of lip, mouth, singly imports a kneading on my
short lanks of uncoloured. Dear,

                                                          who small, wan, paleness
                                                          of cheek is writ with the
                                              quiver
                                                          of
                                                                cupid's
                                                                               pricking,

                                                    treads
                                                               of thy nostril, lip, and ear silver
                                                               hangs a curving set of beads from
                                                               thy nose

                                                                                 and the back of your
                                                                            head
                                                                      is
                                                              nice
                                                     under
                                                 my
                                           hand
                                     pressed
                                  thickly
                                 into
                                 cotton
                                  and
                                    your
                                       back
                                         ,which,
                                            slithers
                                              and rolls
                                            says,
                                                      "hello, destroyer"

the broad back mountains of there is some dust of mellow light a failing day
milked and honey dewing the tremoring gardens. i tend them with my
mouth, are they well?and i ask the shop keeper what isle may i find some
cotton tubes. he seems a man slightly shocked ears crinkled in the veneer of youth chipped clean
an man oldly. am i odd here, and outside the lashes of air break on trees
the leaves muttering a basic pleasing sound

the light is angry in stark dress that is up and i see its nakedness on every
item languishing on the shelves. but here and there is some shadows, it
's not new. this place. like the man. it waits for silently some patrons who
might find it amongst the hills. cleanandwaiting. he walks it every day
sifting the echoes with some boots leather creaking. startling the empty
air with his generous presence. generally i walk about and look. and i
found them. "seven.25"
ok

come pretty quickly out of air incised
precisely with your hips skinny waist:
Saturday
                  say

                            LOVE,

you should've seen
i was like lightning
like swift hammers
falling shout
i was like arrogant
i was like pain
i was a fist laden shade, speckling skulls sumptuously
a lithe darkness
paunchy of carpels
and i laid it in his vessel (

         and he slept
                                )

a day is the moment i gulp to risen falling
Night O', chiefly last, you disease first
of each clay tough with light dressing you

                      its spank

on the rouged teeter of enclosing most
day. swelling are you ripe and sensual
silence behind silence. your withoutsound
womb is tethers creeped up the spine of me
to in you pulled me enclosed an instant
forever an instant. unlearning myself,
i go to where i am touched exactly
more and better than the instant light
of day. too so we all say, "hello"

when admits into me the splendor

           ;(your heart)

by quick immutable prancing cloven love
a shall star

                        (within dumb lips contained)




                         revolt against darkness




                                  A brightness



                              more sweet than
                              bitter less
                              and without limit

                              (honey;salt)


                              Dissolving completely
                              the whole of your breast
                              into livid Spring
                              a bruise


                               and become

                               again whole

                               again young



                                again,

                                    .



                                       ,






                           .

listless golden child
release sweet vibrations from thy
frail lungs to crisp the air with their slender elegance

i know     th  e    loose; puRple, scream
       splattered rent
a vessel bent to sleepy hammers C;rA,sHing

            but in so it was

worn weary thin hipped goddess. A

(dreams)
                  just
                           thickly
                                        and
                                                  copious
                                                                 what like pale
                                                                 towers ascend
                                                                 nights to heaven
                                                                 in which sleeping
                                                                                 fair
                                                                 winds ma
                                                                 gi
                                                                       st
                                                                 r
                                                                      a
                                                                 t       e
                                                                 the lewd buds
                                                                 of lilacs and
                                                                 poppies un
                                                                                     opened
                                                                                                   buds nudely
                                                                                                                        before
                                                                                                             crocuses
                                                                                                                         and
                                                                                                                    between 2
                                                                                                                          sheets of
                                                                                                                                  softest
                                                                                                                               cotton
                                                                                                                                     the innocent
                                                                                                                               sugar petals
                                                                                                                                      of their bulbs cleanly
                                                                                                                              is sundered

a confused or starry night:
It sweats
                with burning
Jewels Jousting Just
as lovely as my lady's eyes which sparkle quick as diamond's
   F                    .                                                           ­                                             !
  i             , '             '  ,                                                             ­                              '
n g e r s.'   ;   '              '.                                                          ­                       ,
                   .     '  . ,   ;                                                            ­               ;
                      ,                         ­                                                         '
      ­                   ' , ,  , ,     ,    ,   .    . . ..........................................   '