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635 · Jan 2011
Untitled
PK Wakefield Jan 2011
gilt in foiled amber streetlight bluntly buckled on my coffer p-coated and trundling meticulously a drafty cinder of pretty little veins blueing clicked small headed teeth blasting blond scalp and hot pinked lips they' were asking shyly if i'd a minute heat to burst the cool heap of tobacco splitting pleasantly her plush rinds a tube 'i"m sorry i don't smoke'
635 · May 2011
Untitled
PK Wakefield May 2011
beginning closed, opened fragile hardy meadows outward from the tumult
of absolute stillness. a skull in every smile smiles quick wry lipless grins
in every skull it smiles amongst the bodies, youth soaked dripping carnal uncarnal, it smiles whenever the voices, **** and vividly, couple and
uncouple the twains of hips(& between them it's grinning, in their pumping
force & even in the ****** of the sudden exploding creation)"it's grinning right there, and someday when you lay in last and final you will say 'hello, FOREVER'",
634 · Jul 2010
f
PK Wakefield Jul 2010
f
beneath th e  naked of my feet is the cadence
of the earth. leafs spit cracking fibers. innumerable
songs of death. and loved 2 well was fall. but now
suddenly summer grins a heat fetish. sensual sun
risk a grip of my shoulders, a golden gilded lady. all
about my freckles play your little hands. flutter exactly
wings of coming fingers all about my skin. and marry
to your ******* my gentle chest. lips locked serenade
played bony embers. in your perfect bony prison beats
your vermilion perfection and nerves. soundless noise
mingle in     my lips and direct my hands about the landscape
of your timid hips. strong skinny. how about, maybe, you love me?
634 · May 2010
spiral down bodies
PK Wakefield May 2010
spiral down bodies
as our mouths turn toward
each others
erupt frenzied rapture
in a gasping valley
ramble i do testing
every scent i elicit
from the imperfect cure
of her shady lungs
coat me with your
heavy breaths
i'll wear your tongue
on my god
for
this night
634 · Oct 2012
Untitled
PK Wakefield Oct 2012
there was how shall i say green the city consumed the meek and tender brilliant
all rose in slenderest gardening blossoms root 'pon root in earth univocal (it's
shoulders, feel fresh, smoothly revolt into unchaste Autumn)


                                                                      whose lipless grotesque

                                                                      smiling parts

                                                                      between all

                                                                      ivory leans

                                                                      October

                                                                      her
                                                                     smell
                                                                    is wet
                                                                   curious
                                                                  Cinnamon
                                                                 chamomile
                                                                  citrus tingles
                                                                 against
                                                                the wide
                                                               plate of unhairing
                                                                  FALL(s
                                                              from a broad leaf
                                                              russet tranquil
                                                             blue
                                                        ,        flat and cool        ,
                                                                peels with tenderest
                                                     coming


                                                                         eve


                                                               flickers




                                                                                                big




                                                                   with



                                                                                      frailing




                                                                             sun


                                                                       collapses

                                                                         intooneenormity:

                                                                         ORAnge
634 · Aug 2012
you remind me fingers deep
PK Wakefield Aug 2012
you remind me fingers deep(wetly plunging
kindler sparks

                              and

                                            the


                        complete



                                            collapsing

                           of


                   silence


softly meets, firmly, parting

slippery

coils

in briefly blushing. cheeks perhaps thighs, or)
fingers: your reminder
sets pale tinder
cloven
electric tender
634 · Dec 2011
Untitled
PK Wakefield Dec 2011
i lay in grass stilly
departing myself
                 into heavens exquisite face
whose boundless leaping freckles shimmer
most gracious and profoundly
consuming the frail last light
into its infinite chaste *******
(only to bud it out again
in little ****** o' glimmering)
634 · Jul 2010
it,s cold
PK Wakefield Jul 2010
it,s cold. the feathersofearth. generous
soil. raw roar son. you were the first.
    i was and also.
i was the last. more acutely the chattering of teeth.
do sound a bit ok. but i don't loveit;

what a lovely box. piney naught. smooth wood supple rectangle.
she will rest. it,s the sound of jets. cut the timid ministers voice.

     i      did         know                you. yet not;

still, for thee, a tear. i do shed. go to the quiet. maybe we,ll meet again

    some
633 · May 2010
next 2 straightdullsilver
PK Wakefield May 2010
next 2 straightdullsilver
                                              (shafting from concreteish
                                               landscape)
wrests a swollen *****

corpulence molds in cylindric fashion
to attain the shape of comfort
as repose consumes her physicality

a man chirps in iridescence tones
to gather her heed on his beckoning

she shatters the womb of stillness
bulging in animation
step
    step
        step
           step
barter at windows sill

(she:)
just a vehicle of pleasure
633 · Nov 2011
come know me moon
PK Wakefield Nov 2011
come know me moon

     (know me quickly)

in my bed know me
your smoothness will
enamor and your fullness
will burst with silver
fur crawling out the
sharpness of your belly

i'll eat you
and i'll have
you in my body
and i'll just come
cleanly perfect and
naked i'll dance on the
gnarled bending forest
of **** tress in your waxing
*****(under your ******* moon)
the small creeping pool of your stomach
astounds darkness and you brightly bristle
with freckles and laughter and you'll jiggle

            perfectly

                                climbing
                                                        
             the
                                   night
633 · Oct 2011
becoming trees
PK Wakefield Oct 2011
becoming trees even became oceans of leaves beneath me sprawling valleys, to lips of them, i soar
on diminutive dreams. i slide right through air like lightening even(trains never went like that)
so fast over earth and faces up turned, agape, each mouth terribly yowling until splendor nearly
fills those voids and gods don't even do that,
632 · Nov 2012
Untitled
PK Wakefield Nov 2012
"goodnight" (oh and by the way
love though you) i

(walking briefly away) by your door
wilting

streetlight stands awkwardly half

(wilting and half awkwardly splits)

dusky silent ruby

lips and body

(then)"goodnight"

turns
632 · Oct 2013
Untitled
PK Wakefield Oct 2013
.































































­



                                     "Hurt me."




























































­












.
631 · Oct 2012
Untitled
PK Wakefield Oct 2012
.                                                                ­                      


                                        ­                                              dOe


             ­                   



                                          ­                          i




                                 ­                                                     seee



    ­            

                                                   ­                                                                 ­          U





                                                ­                                flicker











              ­                                               'tween roses











                                                ­                                         bushy frail







                                                    ­         tail and bones









                                                si­new nicely











                                               ­                                                                 ­                fleet











                                ­               on











                                                     ­                                                                 ­            earthen toe













                                        on cloven feet












                                                ­                                                doE
             ­                                                                 ­                 you are
                                                             ­                                 kind whitely
                                                         ­                                    through trees
                                                           ­                                 a ray downy
                                                           ­                                unsnow and heat



                                               DOe

                                               haired in comely fragrance by gigantic ruthless SPRING leap
                                               awkwardly from thinning life

                                               a smell that curls in my mouth
                                               tastes as thyme lemon honey
                                               and mingles 'tween roses
                                               (curiously fragile singing)

                                                it rises gleaming


                                                 on stem


                                                  on boughwet glazed


                                                   in LOVE
631 · May 2010
rightrightleft
PK Wakefield May 2010
rightrightleft
                       slip
          slip
right                     left(hook)
dance d  a  nc    e fleshy mote
in starkness sparkle
pearl violence; youyou you you
thought you
c                     ould
touch me butbu bu bbu
but now
              you wither in a sweatish slumber
on this canvas shore
as a sheet of vibrations corona
on the mingled flames of my accurate
d      e    s    
                    truction;
(did you really think you'd win


                                                        
                    
                                                              ?
                                                                                          )
631 · Nov 2012
Untitled
PK Wakefield Nov 2012
love is a girl with black hair last Saturday night
i said, "you have something in you i see, which
is a little vulnerability and beautiful is so"
and tattoos(milesofand)
that were a heart pierced by a blade
anda gain pierced

   A heart

with dark red lips
said, "you're really sweet, but i have a boyfriend"
PK Wakefield Apr 2012
that do of a cherry trimmed mouth
is a kiss needing face woman's
she that like a sea is in motion
eternally seamless and flows
with ease through chaste infinity
(her hips are like a pair of crescents
pressed around a split fraction
of heaven where lips are always
for wanting the roughest sating
of my hips spilling them full of

           girlsandboys
                                   )
630 · Jan 2011
Untitled
PK Wakefield Jan 2011
like writing i like writing like i like
cupping
a tranquil fever
my electric quill travels
skin piercing inky talking sudden innovator
so how i'm gonna go
in the first house unlit burning rupture
and gasping with quipping death
i'll ravish nouns
  and verbs
                         nouning
the verb
of bulbous empty cotton
i call my head
PK Wakefield Mar 2011
it was pretty much last night
it was, pretty much, last night
it was, pretty, much last night
it was last night, it was pretty
     much
last night
                the air was strings of farcical serious unheat
that clutched about our wayward
strips of
             meat
in a the street was a lot like
a neon painted carpet of a
trillion quick sparkles
glinting sorely
on the
immense nook of eve
where was huddled darkness' slinking cloth
a twill of slutty
colours                      they prattle on the door
ways                          on the hinges
and                           the unopened lids
of                               the fire cold skin
that my lady wheres the night like a carnal shrug about her
well sinewed luxurious shoulders;
to which i'm scuttling fingers
over her vibrant trachea
and down the small
premise of her
sternum
to the
able stillness
of her *******
and on their rush
my soul is molten wax
                                          and
                                                 verily
                                                           my
                                                                  heart   is      tooarapidstutteringglobe
                                                                                       at the blushing crust
                                                                                       of her softest
                                                                                       pinkest
                                                                                          !
629 · Nov 2012
Untitled
PK Wakefield Nov 2012
there will die in me nothing that has been you (though if even instantaneously you pressed against my eyes your face in some passing razor of a hot second flensed the air and flung across all silence your perfect stare back into me and it felt like SUMMER when you did and baby i'll never feel nor never kiss thy damson and crisp mirth lined lips)

                                                                                              buttherewilldieinmenothingthathasbeenyou
629 · Apr 2012
Untitled
PK Wakefield Apr 2012
Waiting For Oblivion
in a frock of wrinkles sits
wearing through silently
minutes
toward
forever
629 · Jan 2012
Untitled
PK Wakefield Jan 2012
i know precisely the whitest utterance
of almost spring nights; of nights
bewitched sonorous
sleeping fragile
fantasies.  from who is belched a pale
gossamer sleepingest city; i who love the
moon brimming stiller streets of
her flush tremble
her sabled hush
her most coyly subdued excitement
629 · Aug 2012
wherefore are you mover
PK Wakefield Aug 2012
wherefore are you mover    ?       (into unbriefest silence
                                                                                                )

and crisp eyes

                                  hard

                          glassy

                                      body's

                                   , because

                           strike gold 'tween each
                           finger paired over the
                           fragile morn'
                           ,                             a lot

                                                         is sick
                                                         pretty
                                                                  
                                         has night colour
                                                from its untimid
                                                          shoulders
                                                                          flayed

so why Stealer

                          girlsboys

           from kissing

                             ?

take immediately into notsavored
forever

                  could you say perhaps

                            why struck from

                        raw untidy
                        
                           LIFE

                       ,you

                                  Death

                             immutably

              filch
                                the pollen of young flowers
                                and the agile stem
                                                                  crush?
628 · Oct 2012
Untitled
PK Wakefield Oct 2012
in autumn all light is
(more **** fragile drunken sleeping)
the earth
                         and leaner

                                               and leaner

rises uneasily in the morning stiff white
less

            and

                        and


                                       less


                                                    green(sproutsnone

                                           frost slightly

                                     instead

                             grows

                      just

                                   )climbing the death of night rib
                                     by
                                     rib
                                     by
                                     rib of sallow frigid air

                                     and in one enormous swallow:



                                        WHITE
627 · Jun 2010
i note
PK Wakefield Jun 2010
i note the (needle loved) slender limbed crooks
                                              of
fresh cut stems loitering. by the stone towers.

black rivered arms of elbows in grass puddles
giggle lipped they ***** smiles; fill the greedy
hearts an ember of false heat to glow numbly
the fire sticks smokey breathe exhaled suddenly

gather to their lush valleys the wagging tongues
of all the pretend men. who are naught but boys
in the pink *** light that streams from dainty *******

so glad am i no longer slaved to that heed. and find my
mind in soft palm of my                                        waiting
                                                          lady
PK Wakefield Aug 2012
a more particularly dreaming fatally clings
to my head, of your dramatically stupid
love, i uncarefully plummet into and

               thought

                                  by
                                             thought      
    

climb up the dust
of your sternly remembered ***

and the ******
of your healthy florid stroking, the

homely distinct razor of your kiss
and the limpid flavor of your hips

enamors

inch
by
inch

up my thigh
strangling me in the faintly
distilled miracle

of your frailly killing idea
626 · Sep 2012
Untitled
PK Wakefield Sep 2012
driving; while in the backseat
i noticed orange small and sharp
flooding curled eve her hair 'bout
each revolution of my fingers, spent
twixt them last trill felt wide (it felt
enormous and hollow light as crushing)
it was full of serious ending and had convulsed
ever so little by little it shriveled(engorged)
grew, swelling to almost (inside me it did)
bursting
625 · Jun 2010
in so was i)
PK Wakefield Jun 2010
in so was i) a clean frost winter
a tight bud unopened in the
frozen fragrant fingers of the cold season

              but

came the spring of heavy light woman
feather loved lady whisper me a kiss
and

                                              BLOOM

my petals to her new sun. a

when the shift of warm came bubbling wet
i had never been so unclosed
open every
with
make me naked
625 · Apr 2010
we tried
PK Wakefield Apr 2010
we tired
tried
to talk
buts
ilence
bubbledthrough
cracks in our sounds
624 · Aug 2012
Untitled
PK Wakefield Aug 2012
it was november it was raining just a little bit
of rain was powder fine glisten soaking
the frail pale length of the forest long dark
sleepily crisp in gnarled and in limbs
crooked elegent
the way was streaming(bent with treees)over
and a sprig of magic sharply
in my nape first creeping
through loam(worms)
my chest
worn of heart broken, i
through gnarled lengths of long sleeping trees
freshly said life
in the nicely dead forest
my heart(worms)creeping
through loam
624 · Jun 2010
Untitled
PK Wakefield Jun 2010
patient violence: wait at the breach
i'll let you captivate my sinew
when the bell tolls. resounding
activation; articulate fists dapple
cambered flesh

kiss pretty ugly knuckles
love the pain shower
b            u                t
so it tolls again
the exact ring of rest
calls to my hands
"steady breathes now,
in this minute"

i await it's summons to
birth
           purple
                         blossoms
624 · Dec 2010
Untitled
PK Wakefield Dec 2010
the hours 4 and 20 past
when lays my skull in cotton glass
and lipless maws gasp and laugh
fleshless poesy of ice and gas
in erring billows frothing mass


            scowl(
624 · Sep 2011
do even reams of woods
PK Wakefield Sep 2011
do even reams of woods ? black as steeply whispering trees
                                                  (in dreams they do)
they speak creeping boughs
over laughter 'neath them
the dirt between their toes
                                                                                                     The
                                                                                                             Very earth
                                                                                                              Is their laughing
                                                                                                     The  
                                                                                                              Birthed vegetation
                                                                                                              Swayed slightly
                                                                                                                                                       by the hand of wind
                                                                                                                                                       and night so hewed
                                                                                                                                                       by pins from out her
                                                                                                                                                       they sparkle savagely
                              i walk
                                            , the earth upholds,
                                                                                   i am contained by nothing




                                                                                   ;
                                                               .
624 · Jul 2010
R
PK Wakefield Jul 2010
R
what lovely bones you,ve got. sO neatly in your arms.
s
o
   christened with your muscles. and nerves. so specifically (and arrogant)
the frame, white;and stiff!suspended the correctness of your
*******. supple drops of flesh,

    in the between of my hands

corrupting. should you yes and lift it: the cotton breeding 'neath mine fascia) i w i      ll
    
     lay in you  my immutable splendor.

where the grass is crinkled suddenly under the pressure of your
            inexhaustible perfections. the tree is also, boughs spread.
some shade; for rough lovers. how sore you make me.
    these roots are hard. blistered the ***** skin.

             die
                   die

little sun. make a soft blanket. star strewn. by the graveyard.

                    it was quiet
624 · May 2011
i am for words entirely
PK Wakefield May 2011
i am for words entirely. i am crazy for them. i am naked in them. they are everywhere i am.
when i walk they are with me. when i am in sleep they are with me. they

grow from me and i am nourished on them. they sprout in all the atoms of me.
they are in all my sounds
and my unsounds and stillness and my motion. they are my plenty. they are

the grass of me. they are in every wrinkle of the morning. they are in every
wry splinter of the
afternoon. they are timid and hot. they are bold and cool. they are in

bending stems of forests in me. in the wind that whispers in the boughs
of the forests of me.
I fill them and am filled by them. we are for each other. and each other for.
624 · Aug 2011
sometimes i am very tired
PK Wakefield Aug 2011
sometimes i am very tired
(and dust is like me)
dust is like me sleeping

               (fluff and sloughing me)

          b
       e
            t
      w
          ee
            n

softness barely dust is me
resting on your skin in a
hot room where we fell
slumping into each others
dreams our selves curled
our limbs about and we
623 · Aug 2010
i give my blood
PK Wakefield Aug 2010
golden piles,heaving trunks,she's a little mystery
so grow slowly magnificent leaf
the hearth sprouts a cough of giddy spit
(when the sun dies the earth drunk of quiet; the trees clamour
       for some moon blood) and the hounds are mouths foaming
all over the ambrosia flecks of open windows greeting summers breath

      she,s some fruit. grown supple flesh singing stinging beads of salty
liqueur. taste. lips gripping stunning liquid. in all my cuts. she's the paste.

                what a bounty; these eyes. seems where the stars lay. glittering
specks. irresolute laughter. the timid sister of a day gone by


                                       how make i for you
                                       an earth more perfect
                                       than this? i give my blood
623 · Jun 2010
X
PK Wakefield Jun 2010
X
you  are   the    most ardent summation
of the *** cells blistering in a womb
to spit on my skin your fragrant
  
        god

odoring perfection like the trembling husk
of a bloodless heart sleeve worn wearing: the tears streak absolutely"
dust me with the slivers of your sorrow
and i will lead you to the cleft of my stupid limbs
where all melancholy will cleanly disintegrate

                              morf
your so special frame. i love thee. do thou love mE?
622 · Jul 2010
XVii
PK Wakefield Jul 2010
collapse the husk of sin with the
lucid dirt caked better and more.
all about your cascade. and bleached
serenity stiffly decaying. a grave calm
in the ******* of untold lovers. to be
cadaverous an apathetic magic.
seems it to me the sky was blue but
cracked melody of ruffled gray
hips sprawled exactly on its
electric lips to tickle precisely the accurate
giggle of rainbow fuzz.  hush now delicious
day and break staggeringly on the luscious nightmare.
   A lusus naturae  said "why not dip the razors in your

                        purity to slit the rhythmic shudders
of your
                   vermilion  music. but anon hither it doth
come and merry it will slander with the clouds?"

  slither correctly it wAS  in the ponds of streelight ******.

      begging white palpations to the weak skin.

            but flustered in wickedly; in her still column
of hot ice. i loved only her.
622 · Apr 2010
an i said
PK Wakefield Apr 2010
an i said
to this day,
"unsheathe yourself of this gray raiment and shed your glory upon my skin,"
alas
the sky's azure lips
remain in that state
we call:

silent
622 · Apr 2011
Untitled
PK Wakefield Apr 2011
uncouthed, in the plain, in the pleasant, in the big upward outward (foreverandever) the sky. andl eap tu pt ot ouch the grotesque marvel: the sun; who's infinitely finite strands of lovely fingers briskly gallop on the smooth earth. a fine lady, he loves most, HER.,;';,.
622 · Apr 2010
soft blue
PK Wakefield Apr 2010
a soft
blue (undulating) god
cuts the
night
with moist sighs

like too much light
it hurts
to touch
with tired i's

but don't no
try yesing
and be mine

(i will worship you
soft blue beautifully)

on my knees:
though it might hurt me so
621 · Jan 2013
Untitled
PK Wakefield Jan 2013
Rain)you enter me by the concise brutal slenderness
of your waist

you wet are thousands and mutely cringing on
my neck some

and scalp some

reeling into sleepier darkness
lark perched suddenly between

emits the frailest wings

and treads you into(nothing
620 · Feb 2011
let's electric
PK Wakefield Feb 2011
let's electric           ,         '       .         '
my hammer in your leaves                   ,
and slippery bundles of laughter                  .
will pump dollops                                                  ,
from chaste and vile lungs                                       '                     !
the creamy bout of odd muscles                                   '    .   ,          
gurgling serious tongues
into the snuffing carriage                                  of silken aching cords;              Y
                                                                                                                               E
                                                                                                                                    s
PK Wakefield May 2012
there began almost a pale nothing
fleeced in nearly night
whose stomach
was vastly
muttering a strain
of ivory music
a tune
like
        unlike
                    winter

like summer more
slatterned
                   a various
sometimes
woman with
2
   apples for cheeks
   tanned rosy
at clattering
slop
        of my palm

and the wig
of barelySpring's
     cloying
     vagrant
                   smell
620 · Apr 2012
if living's dying always.
PK Wakefield Apr 2012
if living's dying always. Then dying's always living
,or is dead and living never. Then is living even?

                     or was dead always?(who knows)i know.
                                                           ­                      life
                                                            ­                  is always.
                                                         ­          Never dies. hot
                                                         with cheeks rosey, flushed
                                       ,brimming with someone else's cheeks
                         equally rouged and with love veneered. Vulnerable
                  life absurdly lived. life spontaneous. Best with a cup of tea
              or in a loud drunk room with music, skin, and tattooed. Life always never dying life. Even if dead.
619 · Jul 2013
Untitled
PK Wakefield Jul 2013
life is strange i'm dying(youare)and the world is
out my window are little boats
dots
boats
dots

toandfro dots
boat
dots

little and to and fro
dots
go whizzing very slowly
outside my window

i can
a glass perspiring
at my hip
does
the wind
cooly blusters
feel

and a flower
very like is
a girl cut dribble

which grasps the air climbing
into the heat of july

a star
619 · Feb 2011
Untitled
PK Wakefield Feb 2011
a colour what does spurt
t0 from the eglantine sprite
;an undarkness puddles about;
                                                          iknewthesummerand her lakes
of vibrant tousled marching hair
                  that giggled from her heaps
and groused with sweating men
                                        who liked the fashions of her flesh
      and the ponderance of shes daughters
wearing mostly skin
                      they flaunt to catch
(with velvet flagrant manacles           )
the ardor of passing boys
                                               them that march about
                                                hideously pedantic
                                                their carefully fastidious
                                                grooming hands
      they'd like to grip with
      ladies
       and wear them for the night
618 · Jan 2013
Untitled
PK Wakefield Jan 2013
a dream is big in you reeling through young arms stabbing
(by able blades of deft hands)
the night


                     a rose


of the magic distillation released
shifting 'pon the wind
trembles not a clove
but sand 'neath feet
is unsturdy moving
out to sea a moon
is larger than anything else
hanging by some cord invisible
and a lark cringing on the air divisible:





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618 · Sep 2011
Untitled
PK Wakefield Sep 2011
**** so little tremble(littletremblingthing)
you rough prickle, 'gainst my lips prickle
your day old stubble(idon'tcareifithurts
abit)and deeper digging mouth does
and those tiny splinters(asyousprout
yourentirelyquakingbody)get so
snugly piercing my skin i (but i didn't
care a bit even if they rip it clean from
my cheeks; those minute spears of yours
)pressing steeply even further i do
to get your fiercely pleasant muscles
up 2 1 startled splendor
(when you open sharply and cave out
one stifled ROAR,
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