watch    from     go

(something sweet)

to
to                    tally

****           vicious


give  your     neck

around           me
fingers       inside,

teeth hands  full
with,
             "      ****."                                    Look


into his i want to
see you become
how,

           "swallow."

you look at nice at body baby not mind dear but you look like fast in lacey nothing baby you have eyes like you've seen ******* you but and baby i like might also to see in you me dear your straight short creaseless hips skinny broken are whole angels of nouns where i'd like to put a comma

i love you
i hate you

i hate you
i love you

i love you




i love you

some broken poem lives(idon'tknowwhere)won't let word or sound touch its thin thighs and scarred knees from being on them between the knees of boys too many times; demure and easy as rain in April where Christ is born again to the rough feeling of a broken poem in the backseat of her car running with face of eyeliner and still trying to be pretty.

inside bed
groans i can
hear the rain outside
painfully wintering and
the shifts covers her (the hands between)
sighing erupt palefully spiders incandescent
the notmoon doesn't its light and outside i can hear
the rain(painfully)

i can hear

(and outside)

painfully it's rain

(and wintering)

i can hear.

.
















                                                                          





















                                                                                 alone

"I am alive,"
says the
tiny
rapid poem
of your wrists;

fair and not fair alike–
both soft
and hard with
beating
inconstantly
heart,

      (you will i will)

which won't but briefly
kiss perhaps
**** perhaps

saying lewd thing of
mouth through ear
to air;

art which
must have both
light and darkness–paired,

each within each
becoming thick
becoming flower

most petals
most aggressively
****** brutal

through smooth throbbing
of broken smoothness:

back little unsquare
hips fully
plush between
chipped fuzz
electrically quivers

with arrow
deeply notched
pink roiling
steepness through
mouth rolling
tongue over

river over
of scarlet
rill

steam drunkly
burst kiss
kissing
into musk musk musk;

(very short swollen and rudely
dancing brokenness of
lips parted over lips
parting to leap
cherrymuss
of motile body
biting bed sheets
not wanting to
"     scream     "

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)

questions are a lot more interesting
   (than
           (
an(swers(

sick f,lOu;rIshIng
                                         calamity by what abscess you **** hotly moisture
'pon the sticky damsel of
                                                   life
who art brevity greased                       or we argue

(scrawny tiffs) with god (who smells like nothings

yay though it be. still we are. if not only a morsel

i don't think you
and without
should
            and just
do it

yay,
ere to for i go
verily as am i
amongst the root of flesh
where layeth dust and soot
in a pleasing rectangle
of symmetry and wood

who becomes our bodies
after our flesh splits ways
with life and makes with
root worm and sun glass
the several blades of grass ?

(i'm making and again wonder
evenly obscene
in the sunlight over my arms
brushed with noon beams
and shadows tightly beneath
my feet;

i think,
and splay over the mind
of children's voices
hurryingly hunched
and bruising the silence
slightly with slim slivers
of giggling–

(there's a boat waiting for me)(

i have to go))(

goodbye  )   )    )

**** what it's so you're

you're so


                        ****


and pretty
in shoulders

around a chest
where
(so nicely flutters)

youth

(and over it
are
your
****                     )

the mangled silver
  (her humeral jousts bangled a glimmering
charming wreck)
dancing lively wrists
jouncing purposelessly
   in the havoced quarters
(the shopping mall fooded court
                                                         )
she pasted me vocally inquiries
           i'd not answer
                                        dreaming sweetly           of her most
and
             naked
    whispering

brief fragile eternity
you are amongst the heaped postures of my thoughts
and if idle i idly return

as in my bed or car(any placid grain
revolve to fore and captivate largely
my anxious floating fingers

             of)my mind

bursting on your slippery

            

                                                                                   forever

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.

speak loudly silence lips less
about a word more dumb
and shiftless

forever

in the habit

of perfection

the earth is a moment. a surly moment. a collected harmonious moment. it
is the blood of my blood.
and i am in it. the thick and sticky blood. it is in me. and we are

there is laughter a girl fills the naked silence with her shoulders through
the angled tress of her white flower (a rose that) whose mouth speak
saying to live through careless moments of hurt sunlight: SUMMER the
curling sigh of ******* **** fingers between where sleeps her sonnet and
her hair.

this suddenly flesh over me
which saying not words
speaks

              (says)

with brushed by fineness
of slightly golden hair:
back and knee and shoulder

who web between sequence of bone
muscles in hurling coils of, "yes."

deeply and more fair than
roiling plate of sea
seething and curves
with wave of heat;

(turned heat)
curved by blade
of mouth and neck.

(i am love you) the which
parted and swelling
to fit within;

eyes, ******* and freckle.

(and do the undoing thing
from where all newness comes:

the "Dear," the "I,"
tongue into
kiss;

breach the fold
where's silent–bliss       .)

there is a shape you are
the shape of a
cool
cool river
on a hothothot
summer summer

summer summer
day
day
day
day

(liquid cool;crystal between
the heap of your femurs
there is a tight tight
song of inside           ) i can and can you

hear
the slow and droop
of your crystal body
twinged with the caressed
lance of
awful day     (Let's Night) .


there is beach out there i have been to in the summer with you let's go

nary the further root(nor nearer neither)shoots
reaching similar jeering your carnal fold whoops
a crown of pink, whose gentler thorns enshrined
the meekest cruel sweetness of with mouth combined
posits a slender abrupt howl from the heaving
noose of abdomens 2 backed seething
(a beast twained)
or so sayeth William

"Well I suppose I realized at a certain point how important physical affection is for me. Touching and being touched is immensely satisfying and reassuring to me. I only ever really feel alive when I'm near someone–kissing them, smelling them, the heat of their skin soaking my skin. It's the only thing I really want. It's the only reason I'm still alive.

For that moment. That perfect moment when someone opens themselves to me in that way. That first parting of their lips, the taste of their saliva. The taste of their neck. The feeling of their wrists in my hands. That openness, that vulnerability and surrender. Saying without saying, 'touch me, love me, **** me–I'm yours, I'm yours, I'm yours.'"

holland was a pretty colour
wriggling in my veins
her languid golden
worms, freshly
elegant
dirt

thinking often finding myself
in music mostly writhing
a distinct sound of children
in the abrupt open nook
of night timidly splayed
i am mostly myself
when i have been me
finding thinking often myself

i still shall repeat
(which is my cheeks)
through this cold
night, where rain is,

if even though

       (here)

is where only
the cold rain is


kiss
.

o do you divine nudely fingers of immutable almost Spring divide me?

more or less than myself when

arrives (shaking) the uncommon
coronet of your rain hair

(that dances)?(i do not go out to receive it my hands stay closed in night(my fists are very tight with darkness whose only breaking is hidden in your wet steepness of easy rain



falling


forever

"After we die the only real thing left of us, the only real fragment of the person that we were, is not the children we had, not the pictures taken of us, not the random trinkets we gathered over our lives–it's what we wrote down, what we said about ourselves. That lives and breathes. That speaks beyond our lips to say at any moment after, just as we were in that moment. Writing then is the very serious work of living. It is the chronicling and preserving of ourselves–it is the task of immortality.

And like all such tasks it ultimately fails. Only, it fails more accurately."

like cool with a cigarette suspended
between
                lips

hangs off the cute blot
of *******
in a hotel room
                              )her

tongue

                    that a

               stud interposes

             ,

feels like rolling static
                                       with a black eye


                                        (on bruised knees)

I have been too long from love
which is warm sand 'tween
my toes, the sun, and the shore
'gainst the infinite murmur
is slender, full, and thick with
people and people and people

skins many some golden others
pale as snow, but not that let's
recall your short dark and olive

           (hair;body)

teeth imperfect perfect and above
splayed the wide umber of thy nose
and above pierced twin pools of jade
(

           and below)

lean firm
distilled youth easy
******* effortless
stomach soft marvelous

(now from sand up)

feet pleasing colours
toes chips
calves diamonds
on bones
thighs unmerciful
and inward folding
hungrily 'tween they

a small stubble

and

heaven

some thing pretty
Ugly("man,

                            )tiny



and scurrying enormously
in some big glass(you got)

whizzing to and fro
one less than before

-- minutes each

                        (a light?")

arrives a doe in its unharmed innocent hair, and i pluck each out its skin and get it naked under me and i take the softness off each follicle and i make it for my mouth and i bite the petals off it and when i'm done it's a just ugly deadless rose

"oh hello"whose shoulders are easy darling *****
sloping"hey"
                      down
                                "what are you doing Saturday?"

way into ******* neatish comely pristine

"I'm"deftlywonderfulslender"going"bycalvessupple

"to a show. you?"


"probably nothing."

my back from rushingpinions extend soaring
i'll wont fall
there's fire in these most of all
it's love
bearing me skyward heavens bound
(sinew and cloud)
cerulean you got me craving
those plush
ambering hills neatly piled

               i
over
                     sweeping

        my arms
                               and eyes

        stab 'em
                              gentle

                                              and
                                                         they'll
           ,
                                 deflating   ,

                    get into one ****** mass

              and i'll eat 'em

"Unfortunately, in reality, it doesn't really matter how you feel on the inside; it's what you project outwardly that has meaning. No one can look inside you. They cannot see or hear what you do not divulge. You are entirely in control of the way people perceive you.

Speaking and giving off of yourself is the most powerful mechanism you have in your hands. You can get the things you want and control your life simply by adjusting what's on the edifice.

You can be a ****** up wreck on the inside, but as long as you do not let this out, as long as it is not perceivable in your character, no one can know.  

In fact, to the contrary, you can, despite these feelings, build an image of confidence and power. This is what others come to know, and this becomes the shared reality."

its throat is very

(the night)

whose fingers deeply grouse
in such blue as silken eve
the whole stack
of enduring
city

roar
and speckled
by the quiet of an alleyway
drenched in stillness whitely

stealing sudden magically
into a tightest yearning swallow

(feels as does and such as when
i think to think

i think as when
in Summer balmy please
skin to stick to skin

a flower just
its fullness to erode
the fever of its pollen

distilled erectly kissing
one unblemished lips

of night who when did
Grousing so bluely
its fingers                     )

through what body of flowers does your kiss move,
its muscles softly more

where palm tightens against neck
titanically blossoms

your breath
in leaping heaps of strenuous hurt.

hurt that loves to.to
come against me
the forking of its river, its

wideness of thigh, and the plying
of my open fist

to splay the dirt

and plant amongst your dying earth
the heat of

                    infinite

     Spring,



                        .


          '


            ­                              ,
  





.




                   ­   
                                 '
                                 .

cream the soft you are is body
white

             shoulders


completely neat in kissing
easily blades

between muscles rigidly
tight and folding

                 folding


          and

fi


              n


     ger


                                s



yoursmine
teeth please too
a bit at least
because cream

the body soft

you are

is hurt nicely pleasant
and you know


                 (like i know)



pretty is pain

my alive:

   this awakeness seems to breathe

of being close through skin
to heart and muscles
singing softly stroked

by peach parted
over pit stinging;

the gross and fuzzy pash
bristles and bur
catching on roughness of
lip:

has two eyes
completing after darkness
hair in pale perfusion,

lipping with flowers
curled in mounded heap;

whose breaking sound
(star startled)
shook with saliva

–throat can't

               but to

                    unkeep

everything                                             :

. comes , together ;    '       "  and   '   falls  ;     apart       ,        

                                                                                                       .
                                                                                                    ,      ,
                                                                                                        '

There's some sense of things, how do I say, I don't know--I feel it uniquely. As when I have been my self, alone in a car, watching streetlights wash over my hands. As when I a have been amongst the stark folds of almost winter nights. As when I have been pressed suddenly from unkissed, into, kissed.

And how do I describe it? Maybe I don't need to. Maybe you already know.

Who knows, perhaps.

love

i wish it could

contained within

the body
(of 1 body)

be.

i love you constantly
that you are my Wife
(and my Children also)

,and both my body and my lips

(i want to kiss you constantly)

your sweetness and your smile
and the smell off of your hair
and light sparkle of your eyes
and the very correct angle of your nose.

i love you always, that you are.

And that is no little thing
i think because
i love also the Spring,
our children,
the direct sheen of moonlight
on pale snow,
and always your constant hips.

i love them,
and not least,
but most;

for you are my wife:
always something,
easily eternal.

and I love you,

as nothing which is eternal
is not you;
nor the gate of your walk,
or the folding inwardness
warmth of your
creaseless thighs.

i want only to love you
for all my days and nights—
and when they are done;
spent of laughter and tears,
i will rest easily in the ceaseless
crook of your sea.   .    .

of

(do you suppose)?raintime morning with

creeping.

                               shadowlightshadowlight

crreping


strands,


                      hands as



soft can be? the inching,

caress,
and deeply?

.


























































                                                 Winter.
























































.­

it breaks
(just so
like a skinned knee
gently lapping
cool
       s
          t
                ing
             i
               n
         g
laden BreaTHS                                                 ,                                                  )

let me tell you some heat through the glowing waft of crisp stars hung with the sharp croak of a

                      here bird

                                                   and a



                             there starling

                                                       ­         on a filament invisibly


                                     cast

                                                and


     ­                                                         cast

  ­                                                                 ­       and


                                                    ­  
                                                               (by a pale spider titanically frail huge)


                                                         ­       from lewd ***** tall beauty

                                                         ­        muscles violent
                                                         ­        charge lathered in the murk
                                                            ­     of failing night
                                                           ­      rise and again rise
                                                            ­     thumping brazenly (feel dainty prim or)