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PK Wakefield May 2014
.




















                                           ­                                                                 ­                






                                          ­                is this real






















                                      ­                    (am i really alive)






























.
PK Wakefield Nov 2013
know me:
(i am myself amongst you)
i am the root of light;
i am the light where roots dare not tread to pass.
PK Wakefield Jun 2014
kiss has been the turn
the twist
upon
the folding over of roses

over roses

into.
PK Wakefield Nov 2012
i have always wanted to write a poem that
thin wristed

smiling at stupid jokes

with hair tiny thousands dark

wanted to listen to French jazz on Saturday mornings
PK Wakefield Dec 2011
do like rain severely
smaller lips smaller
kissing lips kissing
tinly divided mouths
kisser mouths kisser
like rain do severely
PK Wakefield Jan 21
by whyly
you stand
a Woman
i love
in the nearness
of your eyes
the room catches
a fleck
of brilliance
and the color
of your soul
bREATHES
PK Wakefield Nov 2013
.





                                                                                bruise,

                                                                              the pressing of your skin
                                                                              is hurting to want
                                                                              to want hurting
                                              
                                                                                       in you to hurt

                                                                                to want

                                                                                 to hurt you

                                                                                  (  the pressing of your skin,


                                                                                       bruise          )
PK Wakefield Aug 2012
dear i came 1 hour north
you were waiting in blond
skin you had pale eyes
caramel and you tasted like

         sugar *** magic

the lithe dish of your face
caught my face drank my
lips in your soft and tiny
supple waist, from where
lust is sloping eagerly
shaven pink and paired
by 1 (hour north you wait
eyes hips waist hands caramel
                                                      )
PK Wakefield Feb 2014
I.

do you know?

have you been?

have you been by the slant ways behind the hills there is store and have you
wandered much in it?

have you gone down the little rows and counted them?

have you looked into the tired eyes of weary mothers and fathers?

have you seen in them your mother and your father?

have you kissed with them your thoughts and wondered on the small
mystery of their being?

have you wondered at them looking at you(and what do they see)?

have you thought to reach out and touch them and ask them how they are doing?

have you wanted to look in their eyes and tell them that you know they are tired but there isn't much left to go and you know how hard it is and that you are sorry and that they are as soft and as infinite as your own self?

have you dreamt much?

have you gone out from the store, into the nice mouth of the city, and have you seen the same tired look in the same weary bodies?



II.

where have you been in the Summer?

have you been by the bank of a river?

did you let your toes in it, and did it feel so cool as to rush across them you suddenly want to pull them out?

and how did it feel, the first time you were kissed, and sweaty between the arms, you pushed in even tighter?

have you laughed much?

when was the last time you laughed?

did it feel as if it was the last time?

did you watch your laughter curl away into nothing like a vine of fume from a smoker's mouth?

did you watch it curl away and wonder if you might be lucky enough to laugh tomorrow(and did you wonder how many more days and nights you might be lucky enough to not laugh)?

did you cry after you laughed?

did you look down at your hands and marvel at the intricacies of your bone and flesh?

did you ever hold them up against the night sky and marvel at the tinniness of their work? (have you held them up before your face in a dark room and wondered what it would be like to not see?)




III.

have you struggled much?

do you ache, and are you sore?

do your muscles hurt?

do you feel heavy with obligation?

do you feel tired from living, and with life?

from where does your pain begin, and where does it end?

did it begin in the hands of someone you thought you loved? did it end in the empty stare of someone you thought loved you?

have you hurt anyone?

how did you feel?

did you tell yourself it was ok?

what did you tell yourself?

who were they?

why did you hurt them?


IV.

are you awake?

are you reading this?

will you wake up tomorrow (and every tomorrow until you don't), and will you remember this moment?

will it fade into nothing?

will you recall it suddenly in some still moment?

will you look out the window of your car on your way to work and catch the sliver of some stranger's face in the quick of your mind?

will you wonder on their life, and the sliver of your own face, caught in their mind?

and will you remember?

will you remember?
PK Wakefield Apr 2012
fainter ever miles spreads ever fainter
ever farther miles of cool darkness
unfurl fainter colours ever fainter colours
ever deeper darkness ever darker deeper
darkness
                     and fathoms

                                                 and fathoms

                        ever
PK Wakefield Aug 2012
say not rightly(withme)the name of everything
i won't say it not the way said it to say by everyone
nor will i

                   nor will i

                                        nor will i, so
                                        say it not right
                                        with me
                                        the name of everything
PK Wakefield Apr 2014
turn me off(in your body there is a switch
which
ignites the pale frame of flowers


                                     To bloom,
PK Wakefield Mar 2014
are a lot like(girl necks)
in flowers who--

the earth, untensing
of soil and the clouds
are of sterling fluff
amorous to cling with
such unchaste waters as

--bloom, and turn as
blades into my palms
running them hot with
the deepest scarlet of

thighblood, parted, singing
PK Wakefield Aug 2014
.


















                   "Well that's ridiculous.

                     People hate honesty–they prefer to be lied to."




























.
PK Wakefield Dec 2013
there's some



            (destroying) inside you that

                              

                                  i
                                l   o
                                  v
                                  e

                                  i
                               l
                                  o
                                      v
                                          e

                                 and

                                 i ' m

                                mad

                      to have inside me


                         (destroying)
PK Wakefield Jul 2014
summer that like into the entering of cold hands open constantly some
crystal breath like dream such as has been dreamt of twisting into cold
figures of unlived bodies

                              : the earth the sun the moon the stars :
PK Wakefield Dec 2013
o dear meeting you was o dear i can't say it wasn't hard to speak it wasn't so hard to i can promise you that it wasn't to hard to speak and because dear your muscles and because dear your skinny wrists and because dear it wasn't hard to talk it wasn't and dear at meeting you it wasn't because:


                                    "for all the pouring of my lips contain'd:
                                     (the words of my body) were
                                      ,by your lips,
                                      in defeat retain'd."
PK Wakefield Jul 2014
.

























                              "What are you doing tomorrow night?"

  
  
                            


                              "Taking pictures of naked girls."






























.
PK Wakefield Jan 2011
a tree'd grow
youth slapping
by my garage
and howl green
every noonight
i sleep awake the stars cuddling
                                         furiously
w
    i t
         h         my dreams
PK Wakefield Sep 2012
i have said you
have said i and
through your
lips have walked
my words has
parted human
breath and from
it shook a whole
sea has threaded
by moonlight
never stilled the
words that are you
that i have spoken
and you have said
restless coils of ******
silver thick waves has
heaved in silence and
gasping ****** unstill
forever the word i have
spoken and that have
parted a whole sea from
****** coils of human breath
PK Wakefield May 2014
is           is
(the way)
your
hurts hurts

me to(Dear apart

          )****(

the clenching of thy fist   )

you hands around the neck  (

'nd release the torrent held at Christ; )


tighter                        tighter
till
breathin'
can't                             (

DEAR, and
in their pearl'd unfurling
crimson run hot of burning

)
)

in your mouth full of me

(
(

at the twaining of my touch;
in the cloak of youth's cloven clutch)

hard spit thick as tongue swallowing.

up ***


down head
PK Wakefield Aug 2014
Come.







                                                           it's so












(i can't)dark








                            -inside-




where


i can't



                                                  see do you






see, where

dark please

(where I am)

will you






                           please
PK Wakefield Feb 2014
as if to seems by (hung the little world

          the eyes noose

                                   ). Perhaps or

the soul more?

the could be hands loose
,the pinkset ear, whorl'd?

(between who where is who
makes or unmakes the rain)?

hands and unhands alike
tremble to fill:
the crooked barrel
o' flower's stemm'd pain.

(the ridiculous i.

                                the absurd you.)
PK Wakefield Oct 2021
no small thing breathing.

it jumps between
transference.

it's exchange
with blood
and air.

and the smallest capillary betrays:
there is no death
which is not inside.

and the allroot
of the skin
suffuse with wine.

its prickling
burst has some
laughter wandering

in the miasma
of a kiss:

hot breath
stinking a little
and why not because
when my tongue is
in your mouth i don't
mind the smell.

i like it.

the gross and sweating of you.

i like it.

the way and how
you are first in the morning your hair is wild and i want to kiss you after the quiet of it passes over into the noise of your rapidly changed face.

i loved you the way you were in those moments
when i got inside you
and your wrists were
so narrow and pale
inside my hands,,,

something smooth.

something delicate.
PK Wakefield Feb 2011
to marry
the divine habitat
you!re lovely careless ******
the doltish armor of my candor
would be surly erratic blissssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss
PK Wakefield Dec 2013
what are you?do you
think?you are?doing?

to me.will you

doit?more?

Please?
PK Wakefield Dec 2013
"where are you?"

and by the way, "i've been"

the hour of a girl

(often to kiss the shoulders of mountainS"

leeeepinG"
PK Wakefield Aug 2014
.































































­










              "You taste really good."




















































.
PK Wakefield Apr 2021
the sheafmen come in night as day
and lay the stock of grain in hay;
they pull the scythe to the reap the lot
and bear the yoke in cool as hot.

never at ease, never at stay:
they toil a hand fer heft and weigh;
faster and faster they tie wuts brot
laying in bundle accorded knot.

never to sleep, always to lay,
baring the dirt at shafts' away;
tug at haft ere comes the rot,
that's all the life a sheafman's got.
PK Wakefield Jan 2014
o to breathe
how it is i love you:
your little quiet which
do not your lips betray
the slightest music.

o and quiet
how it is i love you:
the mute pressing of your body;
without words which
for saying nothing

is louder than all the world to speak.
PK Wakefield Feb 2014
quietly mysterious and far away i love you
i love you the big and small unnearness
of your imagined hands i wonder which
on your body's wrists (and the head upon
clothed in shortness) are skinny so nice
and never to be known by my hands you
are so unloud will not ever close and


                         (i will love you always even though you will never know)
PK Wakefield Oct 2013
speak me young
the ***, your mouth
in clovers hot

transcending bond of mortal rot

('tsstupid your
   the mouth
   and swollowed
   tighly
   throat               )


lift, cleaving
petals of neatest night

carry to heaven(oh and

YES
when your hands
quickly
wig my
burning ******          )the( i'm

fist the
kitty
yer
smell very erectly  ) coffin


       'o mundane plight
( i'll push between yer stocks
         a
   *****
        like
      they
        'llpush
          a
      *****
    'tween the dirt
where yer'll sleepin'

              lay                   )
PK Wakefield Feb 2015
oh little you,
much of glory
and downy dew,

do break the chasm:
darkness' fauld;
igniting passion
in cannies auld;

thy bitter petals
coalesced o' fear
that sting as nettle
when hand is near:

release as doe,
thy urgent bride–
to flowers shew;
in crimson dyed.
PK Wakefield Aug 2013
i love you(bytheway)who
comes out darkest winter
brightly hands

your cheeks feel beyond feeling--minute

,soft,

and clothed in Summer:


dance
PK Wakefield Dec 2010
straddle nothing crumpled jilt. i'll sticky light and call you in a morning
PK Wakefield Apr 2011
when i,m moving i don't like to make any sort of sound
any sort of short sturdy long fragile careless sounds
and i like to go around
and i don't
and i don't
PK Wakefield Jan 2014
her sitting through such drunk din poked quietly from between the pages of a book (a little in hand which)"what's it about?"not shyly"post-war France."
PK Wakefield Jul 2014
what are to me you do doing
                to me
you youing?

the hard that comes
where soft is key:
(mouths that hurt
on bended knees);

teeth that teeth
through sharp where skin,
pushing self
when clothes are thin.
PK Wakefield Jun 2014
some hot living between playing
the air
with hair
does some girl beneath
a heap of wondering brains
completely perform a lust thing.
PK Wakefield Feb 2014
it was cold your heel hurt and i'm sorry because we were walking to get some food i was thinking about how you are so nice to kiss and "this is magic" the world and your eyes and the easy body of your silence between the houses "this moment" and my hands full of box with scones i couldn't wait to see you smile


"I know it's ridiculous,


                                                but I'm serious."
PK Wakefield May 2014
.






























            "Water you waiting for?"

































.
PK Wakefield Feb 2014
not matter does whatever this world thinks(i

will go by flights of angels
)on

their breath

i will go by florid gasping of soundless immutable
waters into

              waters of. i

will pass my little ship its sails may bend
but
i will go o'

i will go shall not by the whatever the world thinks

despite angels (on whose breath shall carry me

into
PK Wakefield Dec 2013
immortal is to die
it is
when arrives

(cleanly)

out of jerking
lances of
mysterious night

kisses gargantuanly slender

(as the petals of a poppy are slender)

meet furiously with knowing
and becomes unknowing

(faster than a lips become
nothings easily)

eeking from brief impossible slumber
the crisp whiteness of its noose

to hang by all men
instantly into dying forever
PK Wakefield Nov 2014
the big old quiet of the electric house is somewhere around me humming incessantly with a heater .   a cat is which becomes smoothness neatly into
my lap folding upon whisker self of darting blackness the night outside
which compares with complains with rain through wind and trees my
window against and there is between it all the tiny miracle of a chime


                slowly    .
PK Wakefield Nov 2013
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
                                     '
                                     ;
                                     .
PK Wakefield Jun 2014
felt, have you ever,
a world without fingers
,grooves,
or
edges of roughness?

it does not feel of anything
expect feeling more deeply
than hands ever have been.

Coming at the backs of your
eyes with peculiar easy intense
banding of unbroken shades
of light, it does not emit
a single colour instead
it fills with brief singular
tingling of being

a texture more wordless
in words uneasy to say
a poem of trite inevitable singing.
PK Wakefield May 2014
.































































­



















what are you some kind of monster kind of some kind of monster are you





























































­


.
PK Wakefield Jan 2013
of Cherries,



                 "OUCH"


down'er pants firm notched reeking
stiffly *****


                         cherries

red cute slippery fumbles fingers over and

down'er pants

jeers clean shaven a howling gypsy split
from its lips to its lips
Wearing a manicured crown (strip cut square)
notched tingling
its

face


is
PK Wakefield Nov 2012
i got so many beautiful

   (words and Dear
          hands, Baby)

they just want to breaking
leap across the chaste ugly
winter a sting of poppies
into her steep heart bury
their roots and climbing
them shout from clenched
colours warmth as you
have next to a sweating
Summer lake been curiously full of
PK Wakefield Jan 2011
burst distinct order. the old new's gaining trembly girth in spongy sauntering crawlingand BANG surely nothing's still as moving jitters cream a taunting yes
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