A bed shakes smooth,
bold, and broken like a
silent ache when our
language sweats through
my blue tongue and the
mighty kills the sheep.

I wandered under time
before my mindless bite.
A grotesque madness moved
over his little world and
together we now use the city
To feed.

I fall to valuable words,
Slowly plagiarizing cries and smiles
And looking dizzy around my knees.
Naturally blushed with drunken worth,
Fifteen happy poems were easily dreamt
Of him like those life and death people.

Our big lives died of passion.
Our time ripping through time,
And the sun reproducing dawn.
I am a garbage dream thief and
The words have told me how to steal.

I walk the lines of your face
Between the roads of memory and desire.
It lifts the journey of my youth into a
Tremendous game of fear and excitement as
I try relentlessly to cross this state.
I float above the warm pastures of
Your cheeks, hoping my hands will leave
An imprint of faithful love.
My nose follows the path of your soft skin,
To the bridge between your eyes where it
Becomes as simple as two lovers nearing paths.
My mouth climbs the sweet, red mountains
Of your lips with an accomplishing hold
On our coupled hearts.
My eyes sink into the warm pools of your
Soul, entangling and entrancing every lingering
Thought as I so strongly try to escape.
And your words;
Your words leave me with none of my own,
For you have stolen them from my heart.

I (my love) am in you. I
(My sweet) can feel you still.
My feet remember the steps
Inward to kiss. Inside the shelter
Of your arms, I am in you.

Time cannot fade what love
Is felt like, truest dear.
Though hours- time) tick-tocked, I am in you
(You in me.) It is honesty,
In what I say. (Baby,)

I have lost your way.

I thought I had hurdled this branch standing way of my path,
The leaves that grow with a burning passion have settled it.
Covering the tears of my past with its ornate life, but somehow
Even the spring--the comedy and birds singing—
Is disturbed by your name.
Even and silver—too close, so I break.
I see those four letters scrambled and slathered in front
Of my eyes, and you…where are you?
In your room with the lights brightening your face.
The space where I once sat as your hands were wrapped
In my hair, the loving scent resonating like the sun before night.
But now it will only be a memory, a photograph, or a thought.
One day, Oh--I will see love again.

The love of pain to see again,
the novelty of humor,
I feel to never feel again,
the joy of late September.
If we were never to be so sweet,
The lovers of late noon,
My eyes would never weep as much,
In a sorrowful, desired swoon.
Joyous hate—
Just more alive to feel,
But this heart shall hurt no more,
Because it is not real.