well what am? a muscular innovation
strapped cords blistering the skin
bones wrapped in sinew,and aboutmy
hands the cords sing softly stroked. the boughs
splay and a forest gasps fronds detonate the
the strands of courageous sun hair.  an apparition
of glory sits fouling my shoulders and i am heavy.

so come the needle stem. peaceful riot veins blue
snakes. enchanting scent dump flow under and over or.

                  a fragment of violence.

Mr. Eliot;mr cummings,am i amongst) you?are my fathers.

whose own body have i been
beyond myself to live?

some grey some black
tiny little box of tick
tock, little snap
little whir
and crank

over the engorged aperture
of girlflesh parted on spits
of young wanting-to-be beautiful;

snap snap
whir tick
tock film,

film over light
over film
over electric
sensor hot
at mouths

gush twaining
snip
snap

(1.8 60)
too bright
too light
not enough
chiaroscuro
when you're

"lick(ing) her ****"

the dew of some mornings is a thing which is not unlike the kind nuisance of my lady's graceless feeble miraculous fingers. who are not unlike the starting end of day where **** and silent and hulking quiet tremble viscous muscles
of pure unlight, teeming with wondrous gleaming follicles, pimpling the
evenings tummy lapped with luna's rapid fortunate tongue. the chittering
globs of arms waxing ferocious. in climbing steeply valleys feet middle in
strange streams. the common streams. the unerring crooked and corpulent streams. in there, between between, 1and1 (you and i) our ventricles beat
insatiably voluminous leaves. from trees of amorous fruit bearing fronds
slapping silence(whileWeBeneathThemIntoEachOthersMe'sDepositSlushyViteWeWe­remore than god's unfound children returning into the cherished cherry red
steaming glue of our very and very clanGlorious howls repeatedly again angain andgain and gain: an earth wholly more to the liking of "which is not unlike us")
                            1
                          !    I:,.

and at that miraculously perhaps that you should
be waiting by the right place when you were (and
i was right there too)
and that i told you i'm not a misogynist
        but
  that and just
i'd like to *******

                                          and

you said
                       "
                         ok
                              "

i was just over
            
          completely

my own feet at how uncoy
        your mouth was
perfectly ***** and all covered
in hot
and your cheeks
because
               ...

                    well

i'd never heard a girl like that
say the most torrid **** of
decently blond hair and sharply
your waist met your hips
and that uselessly covering
skirt because baby you got
something and you shouldn't
ever have to wear so much ****
you should just and with me
only get all that **** off and

please baby
because your deep with firmer
and thighs absolutely
so soft and supple baby
they feel so good when they
touch my hands baby they

feel course with your stockings
your just bought and freshly
straight through sweat soaked
on a hot day stockings
and i hatelove that course
expecting feeling beneath my
fingers and i just want you to
please and baby
won't you with that hot covered
***** pristine set of lips mouth
baby just cut me all over
with your kisses baby

     please

say wide thy heart
(i shall enter it the sea)

i shall,
by armies of lips,
forge into its miles
deepest ruts of burning neatness.

i shall,
in it,
very softly sow
1 seed.


(which by shall erupt
thy paleset coffin
into the carefullest of stars; reeling

              ).


and shall,
it by erupting,
become the sea
(entering it)


                   of me.

a different sort of cells
i'm metastasizing
a cluttered profusion
of blundering paint
richly glowing veneer      (
                                                        the stars were saying just yesterday
                                                        ****** gnireviuq fo ! arrows tneluproc
             they gangled hard onto the
dense particular knowledge of the crisp earth
)              this was also never
      but always
                              or should so i say:
          dreamy steam
                                      puff of unquenchable haste

               time goes wiggling
                                                riggling
               some ecstatic worms
                   in our soil bedded flesh
we soon marry
in prim and loveless clambering

I feel the immediacy of things. The imminence of objects. I feel the keenness of a glass in my hands. The instantaneous dribble of condensation over a knuckle. The spontaneous aroma of a summer night. I am enthralled and enraptured by the crisp mint of toothpaste, after a barely slept night. I feel the rough twill of a garment and I am in love with it. I extend my hands into the rapid amber slats of the streetlamps on my dash, as I speed beneath them. I watch them wash over my hands and I feel somehow indescribable.

I am in love with beautiful women who pass me on the street. Every one them pretty. Every one of them a neat mystery. Every one of them in skin as lovely and soft as breath off the ocean. I know myself least when I kiss. I know myself best when I am kissed.

I feel myself in the world and I feel IT in me. I love my friends and my family. I love the rough smell of fire. I love the wisp of spring, grown into the verdant pulse of summer's heat. I love to sweat and feel the movement of my body through open space. I love the sharp itch of a tattooer's vibrant needle. The splay of colors. The tang of my blood.

I look at men and I see boys playing at what they think a man is supposed to be. I see excess, increase, and birth. I see leanness, erosion, and death. I somehow know that neither is life a beginning or death an ending. I know it as I know the tip of my finger. I know it as I know the taste of sweat and hairspray and sunscreen, distilled in the instant of a drunk kiss, in a tent just inside of Idaho.

I am for life. I am for pain as I am for pleasure. For I know that one is nothing without the either. I wish to be known and to say myself. I wish to know you and to hear yourself, said by, yourself. I am simply. I am a man. I am just what I am.

I may die tomorrow. I urge you to love those dear to you and to say it everyday. I only try to do that. I only try.

god
      spoke in
              unbent folding
                      ***** tinder
                             from an inbetween
   (onyx
         follicles
                   manacling  
                              the heaving notch
                                           of cold
                                                   frosty magma
                  lurching
     out
                                    of
       the
                          slouching
             pouch                            of       her
      fine
                            giddy
                                                 pearl
           and


                    in       my            beat heavy

           pulsing      
                                  her    monthly blood)rOAR!?

i watch
vaporous uncoilings
elegantly exit
my oral
lungs breaking
the winds
soft grimace
as every second
bifurcates over
the striding grandeur
of that shining moment
when your ruby
lips shimmer
their electric
whisper over my
fleshy little
pink pushings

i do not write a poem it
from "who knows where" comes
in its body
is some words
i think
some words
but

why       ?
and             i

"don't know" cuz
like lithe
from out of
sleeping hair it marches

adamantine

unstoppable

invincibly fragile
it marches
doe-like

its eyes are pretty too
and in the terse clutch of its stinging copse
i s
pythe
gleaming rind of life

foamed in sweat
it is nubile strong delicate

but

i do not write a poem
it from
"who knows"
where
(idon't)

3 to 1 saidn't he,d never heard such calamity spit strangled text, the paper usually. usually saiding as i'm waltzing likely by the crumbled mortar stock of lewd disinterested coffee. dranking and snorting caffeine and toffy talking. scoffing at the daily bread, 3 and 1  and 3 to 2 wouldn't say at all any a thing. or nothing. crazy laugh "******" dissembled clothing a slightly ***** tramps. they're usually, 1,3,2. **** bucking minstrels in shambles of silence.

7 days for 1nce a month you're vermillion

taste like in the middle of copper thighs

2 lips magneticly parted

by 2 lips 1 tongue

and weeks a year you're like iron
and salt and copper reddish between
hunks of femurs pours a 12 times

dear, the crawling vapid sweet acidity
of 7 mouthfuls of queer drink surge
delightfully opaque crimson gallons of

         you

          r clefted

      love h

           eap

                    is



      the best kind of drowned

when i have been a rose
i was firstly of the soil
my glossy thorns were
from me out and on the
air they pricked it loose
and my petals bustled
round my bulb and
when i have been a rose

i slept with mountains
and i have been eaten
by fawns quickly in
dappled grasp of forests
slight and enormously

when i have been a rose
i green
and light
did creep
between the
creases in light
slutty and chaste
winds have been on me
when i have been a rose

w

          w


                        white is girl talk

                        


                                                              ­   l

                                                        ol

  ­                                       vol


                      evol


levol

ylevol

teeth opalescent silky















                                            ­                                             it's big


















or small

immediately after






rainsomesummer
wetly (whose shoulders are star struck shining
             manifold upon manifold of dewy ******
             shakes
             a
             nExact
             excellence of pearls straightly
             more fragile than
             the bulb of a wilting flower is fragile
             but whose body is strong beneath it
             tall with muscles
             and wears laughter like a coronet of thorns)


                        emerging
                                           timidly
                                                        d­estroys
                                                         ­              by
                                                              ­             velveteen
                                                       ­                         breath
                                 ­                                                 the tightness
                                                       ­                            of closing eyes











L





































LO







­
















































LOV












­
































































­




LOVE

did the sun visit the cold shores of some daughters shimmering eyelids that held her in such perfect contempt.

O, sweet child your arrogance is the flavor of god.

(but shall not those fearful minutes
;bleeding from times slashed wrist;
splashing hot seconds over a dusty yellow)

that dangerous womb of light
birthed a frigid nothing
as my fingers slip on my buttons
trying to shield my pink
edifice from chastising
breezes briskly beating
a lonely melody
on the loose weave
of times
everflowing
river riven
plait

protect thee
thy woolen
encumbrance
is
an article

life, i cannot begin you to describe beyond my dreaming self your how divine moments of simple nothing.

your body is not, and i love it the how it is not. it is

and not it's


some muscles firing with hurt
seething to ache
so horribly
wondrous. it's driving

to the beach

too early in morning and you're heads not clear the sky is so wide and the sun is barely. it is

the uncurling of your fingers between
dishwater
and the winsome triteness
of the caving instant of your breath
caching in your throat
as you realize the dying
of your frail self,

clutching furiously the mundane heady song
of a coffee cup

(and in perfect silence emitting
the most enormous roar
of surging electric stillness)                                .    Life

you are half terribly
painful to. and life, you
are half splendorous to ****

sweating in the heap of your
car behind

the creeping sweep
of raging vein. Life

you are perhaps nothing. But lifE

you are the most,

and nothing hurriedly to slowly
take between the unutterably tiny *******
of snowgirls

their coldest song of closing lips,

and speak something hot

(something big).

when i have gotten so deep
in things i've thought very fullest flowers
whom trundle out the earth
and to light they climb the air
and open they buds
softly kissing supple night

"i like girls"each hole is something
easy nice and wet
in a sallow sheathe of skin
tight of sweat
after yoga class
in between their thighs
before not after
a shower
tasting like a parting
shale of acrid
heaven
bent over the washing machine
GULPandmy"kneeshurt"

outstretched,open,eager
smooth home wet
collection palms
grace
        timid
napes waxing
                      for
accurate devotions
      broach bearing
pink garden
       oracular bemoan
sudden winter spring
    erupts cold
reds glory on her neck
       the sad glimmer
of shimmerlips
                   i want

those they(soft oral)

***** spun dangerous captivation

     midnight dawns magic

indecently the night tasted like staccato light
and trebled, bassing the fluxing notes steeping
off the amber pools i crushed deliciously
under foot mounted bracket
a mountain
of love
she shoved unseriously in my face
and my winter blossomed spring tides new heat
it bubbled between every nothing spurting
terribly roughed dancing
and calves pumping bounce
we all moved like stones
jittering motionless suddenly erupting swoon

on the steps of an old house sits a bright boy
(his hands are full of sleeping and flowers are)
he is in the summer a bit and there he is
sitting a bright boy on pale steps with his hands
full of sleeping and flowers are carefully and
he plucks each from and each from he plucks
their petals on the old steps of a house in
the hot pash of sunlight sits a bright boy, who

what beautifications
can i bestow
on this : thy earthly
sepulcher;
it does not already
contain

?

your gentle shoulders
curve a lovely arc
as my greedy tongue
bends on collared bone
enshrined in
this
your most unbearably
perfection
i call
you paint my
face with
lilting fingertips

there is i have said pouring full of mountains

LOVE

full and mountains

in the east of my heart they are

in the west of my heart you are

and between them soares nothing is
flat  for though rain

which falls and nurses barren dirt
a seed each drop
flutters into bloom
and love between
pouring mountains rains

EastandWest

it must be a *****
(waiting on Railroad
  )for a candy and some
sugar waiting
for the
elated drop of sublime
queasy night
to squeeze her cold
*** between the eyes
of men
(who might like socks
                                       wear her for while
                                                           ­               and grin doing) they might deliver
                                                         ­                                              a little jangle and
                                                             ­                                          noose to hang her
                                                             ­                                          mind dangling
                                                        ­                                               between the buds
                                                            ­                                           of poppies or a
                                                               ­                                        a hot oblong glass rock ******>                                                             ­                                                                 ­                           K
                                                               ­                                                                 ­                              i
                                 ­                                                                 ­                                                         n
                                                               ­                                                                 ­                                g

a rose, a rose, this morning grows
'tween hollyhocks and ***** boughs
a tightest bud whence crimson flows
a rose, a rose, this morning grows
the body of the earth
the eatage of crows
a rose, a rose, this morning goes

i could (outside hear  )

            "clip

                     clop


                     clip


                                  clop

                                      clip"

                                                  outside

                                                     i
                                                    could
                                                   hear
                                                  (smell)
                                                 steam
                                                expelled
                                               rapidly
                                              night
                                             children
                                            laughter
                                           and
                                                  "clip

                                                clop
                                             clipclop
                                    clip

                                           clop


                                clip"

ears pricked

                       eyes

                                 bloodshot


                                            and

                                                  "clop
                                                           clip

                                                         clop
                                                             clip

                                                             clop
                                                                 clip"

                                                             gentler
                                                               farther
                                                                 gentler
                                                                    farther

                                     and


                         "clop
                                clip
                              clop
                                clip
                               clipclop
                              clopclip
                             clicclop



                                

                                         clip

                                                      "

Legion, O the sleeping of your flower is October
many fewer than everyday fewer and many

O slumber, your October is a legion of flowers
hairless kissing bulbs that bend oh just bend
in the grey bluster steeply bend and oh just

O flower, your slumber is the legion October
who marches cruelly through miles of trees
picking of them each their every jounce and bobble

October, O the flower of your sleep is Legion
many always fewer and always fewer many



(grey cruel blustering and through miles of
trees picking bobbles and jouncing marches
hairless kissing bulbs that lean just bending)

with cords electric, you've strung me stinging, with them, me. your mouth
is an apple. your mouth is a fragrant cavern.
in which is my my mouth. mingling. from them springs a mountain

of wind. your hands are, on your wrists, pale spiders. on me slung. your web
of cool scuttling love. on my belly.
you go supple. into palms. they are a colour. your colour. the colour of death

just before you live. you are strenuous. a boundless taught moment. of unugly caffeine. i am a noise.
and you are a colour. you said it in me. big and tiny. in my tiny bigness.

and in the backyard. by the sleeping pile of forests. you draw the hammer
of your guns. and i wilt.
sprouting. effortlessly. infinitely. eating the gilt purse of your pinkest tiny.

and we are like wind. who grapples with leaves. and they touch like
lovers. we are like that.
like health. like sickness. freshly shearing. every molecule of our bodies

onto the indigo eaves of eve. quickly, carnivorously, slaughtering light.
let's then just be.
in quiet. and symmetry.
cords electric. strummed with fallen night.

for all my massedd cords.
youfrail, strength Are
supple olive toned perfection
beyond
the capacity of reckoning
warm oil
coils
adroit

each instant breath (instantly breathing breath
from lungs so quick and slowly snuggles
every self of it between each new immutable
passing second eternally springing nubile moment
(between familiar newness) your voice was
pleasantly sticking into my ears the velvetest
caress(a fragile mostly caress. liked better and
more. failing lilting tears of) that lick incessantly
seemly unfaltering ravishes of minute fluttering
windsbreakinggentlypastthepartedslightlyunclosing
node­ of your (perfectly climbing your face) mouth
mine does. exponentially kissing yours

of all the world there writes beyond poems love.

in whose lips the dust o' fairies wafts half-sharp.


half sharp it wafts hard as girl hips.


fitting between easily hands(andthekissingofperhapsboys)

to each go singing
'pon the blithe dawn.





)for not is a word spoken more easily than Spring.

When beyond all poems writes
by the cherry heat of petaled fawns,

love.

it's in (behind (and flittering)) the palisade of your *******
and empire of crimson beats 10,000 times more magnificent
than any razor of dawn slashing nights enormous throat
the precious pumping of its chambers sweltering majestic pulses
and from the ***** of your love comes galloping your aromatic
flavors. a tongue of passionate lilies bubbling incandescent. and
the habitual crescent of your lips. it,s loved more astutely by no other
save this I. dithering about the delicious hillocks bounding from
your ivory femurs. a blossom in the courtyard of your hips. more caressed
than
          . i

fresh stripping decay
delicate and voraciously succulent
(on the meager rectangles
  crammed with flaccid light
how grand thou art: pumping of the very stiffest asphalt garden
glinting relentlessly)
a comical filigree
spat by Mans most least clumsy
fingered mechanisms
  ;  cLipPing the common strip of cobalt languid sky
i'm in it's jowls
the rollicking neon punch
of ***
             and bricks
the addling conjure of moist trepidations
      in clear or amber juice
          of the fuddled *****
               the barman proffers;with his grimy note
and assertive beard lined vocal shunt
                  "what,ll you have                  ?
                                                                     "

the rugged (brought
strange
tastes)
savage flavors
flooding oral

but

these

silent chosen
***** shapeless sounds

i have coughed a small star
from my throat it tumbled
by all love though littleand
frail it charged urgently for
reckless girl things sinking
deftly into sweet crimson
parting miles of sound it
brusquely twained still blood
pushing rush(hearts clamped
)it pried from hinges doors
singeing crisply all downy
things and it though unfurled(
small; by all love)a fist of
hulking lust

Tear the skin off your back
To make yourself wings
Jump off the edge
Cut all your strings

Float on the breeze
With pinions of flesh
Searching yourself
For demons to thresh

pond
you are: so
quivering to my touch

a
nd

(when i put my fingers in your wet)
your damp skin

writhes

not as like,thoughlike,a little more easily nothing flake
crisply hurts on each carefully florid cheek brittle melting

                   likeyou
  

                                          likeyouth

brittle melting carefully on the florid cheek crisply hurts

fingers hurt

lips hurt

tips and tips
tips and tips

like,thoughnotaslike, youth: an easily nothing flake, on the the florid cheek









                                                                                              melts

WhiTe
            ,
               you
             are   a
          fine colour
        you are a fast
      colour.youarethe
    morning i found U
  sleeping in slump and
polished heather with rust
                                              gilding just the morsels O'
                                               your canny fist of petals
                                                who hides in splendor
                                                 ed morning's vest pr
                                                  icking up your glos
                                                   sy neck to rub you
                                                    r cheeks on the fe
                                                     lt of gorgeous b
                                                      rinded sky. U
                                                       wHitE, you
                                                        are the ve
                                                         ry lust O'
                                                           faries
                                                          ­ you R
                                                            lig­ht
                                                        and heavy
                                                      froli­cking wo
                                                     men as with th
                                                    eir skin you pain
                                                   t they stark and w
                                                   ith just their morse
                                                    ls very slightly ro
                                                     sy rouged and r
                                                      osy slightly he
                                                       aps of hips o'
                                                        roses and
                                                         heather:
                                                        ­     URwhIte

the dawn breathed
hollow reds
nuzzling luminous beads
lilting on her pink petals

her ruinous fingers
draw my rapture
from ever y
crease
in my vessel

she hotlittlewhispers:
"use your tongue"

grossly.fascinated of dense buttery light
  the streets is painted laughing amber       and whisper it
                                                              ­            to her fair buttress
                                                        ­                   this milky sity
                                                                ­          who's nigh detestable
                                                      ­                    glowing hair
                                                            ­                roils with turgid junk
                                                            ­              of cacophony drunk with
       metal


rusty little. we'll go waltzing a polite **** of youth in your tawny veins

cool you
feel like drunk
with poppies air
and you crawl up
into fathomless miles
of Summer mornings you
creep with vine and thistle
you latticed with ivy groan
with young muscles tight against
bone and joint you ceaseless merry
golden and rough silken breaths of
dawn you are fine and pale and you
have nice shoulders and feel like Spring
inside you feel like wet and perfectly fits
me inside of you there is just enough room for me

.                          



                                                                                    fuckable






                 the





                                          haireyes





                                          morning roll



                                          her pinched





                                         cleft

                                        wafts hard
                                        smelling of seagirls; i splitting
                                        wet
                                        crack
                                        stiffly her the


                                        fingers

                                        ENTeringleAVE
                                        dewed
                                        in
                                        A
                                        Shout "yes"
                                        (ok again
                                          i will)

                                         push her up
                                         me to
                                        
                                         sighing wider
                                         apart
                                         yawing
                                         thighs
                                         extremely
                                         taste


                                         li(ke
                                         brine tastes sweetly sour
                                         )marching through
                                         mouth across
                                         tongue

                                         throat and hand
                                         "please"
                                          tightly
                                          "hert me"
                                           and
                                           "ok" i'll

fall into sleep thy body always Spring,
let thy hair uncrisply from mutest gold
turn from youth's splendors

                        towar' wrinkles; fold.


of thy mouth make early nothing,
as April flowers tender

pass thy lips to clearings cold
with kissless hours slender.


fear not the weary mile
treaded years shall always bring

walk in fasted silence
and of thy ending slowly sing.

some harts through forests dappled lope
gentlest
keen feet
rumple leaves
scatter
or trees unspeaking sing
with the fat incurable
lust of sharp
lovers sore
                             hands
fingers
            nuzzled
                          against

the fair muscles of arched
backs wriggling muscles
so sudored magic muscles
viscously
o'er
the pretty spines of
roots
splendor
splits and

out bursting
harts
through loping forests
lovers sorely
hurt with crisp intricate eyes
looking
lean raw eyes
wide into omnipotent pain

**** do not cover yourself
your arms across
your ******* are so
nice and do not
cover them across your
body is the curving
hush of perfectly
winsome beauty(not skinny
or exactly straight

but precisely wonderful;

concisely amorous to touch).

roar? went th,e collaPsing:
(a care)ful bellow e x p a n ding
in the divergence of
reason

and


action

few can understand
the way the sun shifts
its eager bones
under the touch of night
painting his collar
with soft purples

rapt in this twaining
betwixt illumination
a sultry nightmare
made a whoreish
grin

Unlike wind. tall and walking leaf's
curling in bushy locks of. the very,
naked and servile, moon she's
street bounding rills of semisweet
chatter. the togetherness too much
,in,of comely arms a fawn thing, in
the forest of metal's. just leapt vanishing
smoke, into, the carnival of neon
large singing signs. post day well,
in gloom unanimously, slunk with
girl's skinny. they brushed fair and wane
as light's face creeping furtive


                                                ,        "weLL­
                                                         i was said
                                                       in those walls
                                                     sterile and seething
                                                   manic lewd gracefully
                                                  stum­bling,
                                                          ­             i
                                                               ­        was mounted with
                                                            ­           paint of sinning luscious
                                                        ­               lips who carefully
                                                       ­                rampaged, blithe node
                                                            ­           ,a noggin, mine.
                                                          cavort­ing straight narrow
                                                        un­bent sharp green eye's slip.
                                                   s
                                                  l
           ­                                      i
                                                p
             ­                                   r
                            ­                     i
                                                  g
           ­                                        h
                                                     t
                                                       i
                                                        n
     ­                                                    t
                                                         o
                                                        M
     ­                                                   y
            ­                                       f
                                              a
               ­                         s
                                  t
  ­                      D
                            r
           ­                     i
                                      n
  ­                                           k
                                                Down my throat" (ouch!)

if to when
i also shed my coils
of haughty senile life
afore your clumsy gallop
into immeasurable static darkness
take me every day
in the orchard of your thoughts
where, i,thoughfrozenstifflyrotteningfoil, am most unDEAD