some things in me dying are gods
(but not magic

    no


                                 magic always


unfurls 'er little
tickling
in my
and
                   i

                                )she the


              magic


to caress
'gainst my cheek

the easy span:
her innerest thigh

(i to kiss which up
crawl
fantastically into
tightness


                andie    )

Keeping Time

Since you left the faucet’s started dripping.
I asked it to stop; It would not.

The lithe silver neck wilts as it cries,
Watching me make the coffee
Nodding out tears that go plunk all morning,
Like it understands why two cups is too many
And the extra stagnates all day in the carafe
Staining the glass the sick color of burnt chocolate.

I catch myself swaying along with the ticking
In idle evenings spent staring at a blank TV screen.
It wastes water, keeps time, my immutable metronome
while I burn down slowly like someone left in a hurry
and forgot to shut off the oven.

In fitful dreams the dripping is a knock at the door
gone unanswered, for I am distracted in the kitchen
trembling with fury, strangling to death
that mercurial throat that drummed a lonely racket
in the stainless steel basin, counting out mocking measures
of this new silence.

i feels it the
keenly reeling
offall to

                LEAP


completely mortalness
(and kiss by dashing

           w
         i
            n
         gs

the juice'd plumpness
day's killing
           )
                       fleet,

                          '

                                   ;


                            



                           .

is there a difference between love
and lust? if you saw it would you
know it?

is there a difference between faith
and trust? if you saw it would you
snort it?

I once likened you to a supernova;
it occurred to me during a memory of
Mr. Lanzilotta's awful goatee—
of how it twitched and curled,
unfurling, as he formed words about
black holes and dark matter.

"When a star's core collapses,
it creates a supernova."
I envied such a
truly noble death.

Fact: supernovae can outshine galaxies—
but they implode quickly.
Within a matter of weeks, supernovae may
     run
           out
                 of
                     nuclear fuel.

You lasted a month
before being swallowed by
darkness and space gas—
but how bright your flame;
how brilliant your spectrum;
how lovely—and melancholy—your
pervading,
fading
stardust.

of such it is to dream,
more dreamless nights to become

that fleeting which
like a breath escapes

into crystalline diminishing
and the loose tightness
of October.

that kind of "*******

i ' m

goingtosmoke

a cigee                       "is



(to me)          so




so body
andso

it's

dying stupid wonderfully
to taste like

when lips are our(andtongueplease

it's so bright in you
i think seeing is hard to

          (too hard too)


                            in you is



               seeing




                    .