A dancer was arrested one night
For stringing leopard skins across
The windowsills of houses whose
Inhabitants were all court officials

The bones however were left for the judge, that next morning displayed in the shape of his wife, leaning over the kitchen sink cleaning dishes for the breakfast  he never again would let her prepare, the meat was left for the jury to taste and decide if it was all worth it.

© Matthew Goff

Let’s imagine summer girls in golden clothes
O how many of them dressed up like soft fires!
Black streets will melt under a trace of warm steps
While passersby offer sun-buttons and light-drenched smiles

Today, in lovely flames, many females now flooded
Celebrating in slow strides, the yellow-dances
Wandering aimlessly with wild winds in their hair,
A choir of sunbeams off their tongues flash the air
While, singing they begin a most tranquil street-fair

© Matthew Goff

Let’s imagine summer girls in golden clothes
O how many of them dressed up like soft fires!
Black streets will melt under a trace of warm steps
While passersby offer sun-buttons and light-drenched smiles

Today, in lovely flames, many females now flooded
Celebrating in slow strides, the yellow-dances
Wandering aimlessly with wild winds in their hair,
A choir of sunbeams off their tongues flash the air
While, singing they begin a most tranquil street-fair

© Matthew Goff

The Silver Glaze of Speed
or Memory Sped

While passing along a shiny strip made by the street glamour of cars, moving to the rhythms of wishes fashioning a most coveted secret.
I am content with an inner radiance showing her off in my thoughts. Down here the lights are an old girlfriend that remembered I like the flirting backbone of highways…

© Matthew Goff

The Silver Glaze of Speed
or Memory Sped

While passing along a shiny strip made by the street glamour of cars, moving to the rhythms of wishes fashioning a most coveted secret.
I am content with an inner radiance showing her off in my thoughts. Down here the lights are an old girlfriend that remembered I like the flirting backbone of highways…

© Matthew Goff

Sara walks by,
And passes a group of mothers discussing the importance of their children going to college. She smiles in radiant disagreement!
©

A heated swell of perfume
Dripping from his lover’s cheek
Welcomes many more feelings to surrender
Than the windshield reveals now

Driving upon waterfall roads
Couples are seen as fashionable animals
While the starlet sisters giggle
Behind trees where winds sneak around
Carefully.

While the passengers slide upon each other’s laps, a ruffling of clothes is heard in a car nearby. The naivete of subtle experience may someday welcome someone to slip along the sweaty steps of pleasure-stained pools: The ****** Congregation, where the logistics of the court presume “Not Guilty” indefinitely. For temptation is more than desire in Vain, but human curiosity. We can only predict our immediate future and what certain components are to be gained up until a certain point. But new found treasures lie awaiting our innocent stumble, many instances where a courtship often leads to a garden of rose-colored garter belts. Which serve in replacement for telephone wire strung above homes whose tenants excitedly plan for the next affair.

© Matthew Goff

Dream unions celebrate
Fantastic communion for a
Strange orbital beauty
Which punctures the stitch
Of familiar reality and fortifies
Faith in the unknown

© Matthew Goff

I walk by, and never hear the word “***” uttered.
I walk by, and am surprised when people are polite.
I walk by, and people are moving too fast.
I walk by, and see people frowning in the rain.
I walk by, and see a crown of realization.
I walk by, and see a ritual of snow.

© Matthew Goff

French bath! Twenty two year old mind cologne ****! My friend speaks of concubines in yellow autumn slavery like my soul wants to copulate against female hosiery. A woman had her period, what’s it doing in my pocket? Warm October moons circulate preliminary madness with a catwalk kind of patience. Terrestrial sisterhood and their cemetery leaf appendages stroke our hearts with a sweep like bone-silk companions speak dark history.

© Matthew Goff

Paul and Sara ride
Burgundy lipstick her own
A flash radio
©

The evening explodes inside their arms
Paul and Sara met dynamite smiling
Fending off parent’s wishes
With soft smile wave kisses

© Matthew Goff

The ****** Versus Everything in its Mirror

I personally know very little about ***. Virtually nothing. That is speaking purely of physical *******. Still, I can speak forever of worlds that soft sparks construct in a single kiss. It is here, in the palace of naive angels tender and young, that a nervous heart beats the sweetest trembling of rhythms in the day’s surprise. It is from these voices of subtle breaths, in the immediacy of experience, that I have found a language most akin to absolute philosophy in momentary bliss. A language spoken only through the silence of smiles. A universe of colors shared by the adolescent chameleon in our souls.

© Matthew Goff

Rearranging chairs
Much makeup to go around
Pretty girls smash glass
©

I keep a pink afternoon
in my pocket

A luxury in breaths
and a wet side

That is often said to be
her fragrant locks!

She wears a movement
that is blush

Her cheekbone cut to spring showers
and a wild smile

That often seems to me
a most fancy rush!

© Matthew Goff

She walks by wearing blue stockings in the rainy afternoon
Her youth is like a tender dream
She wears a pair of adolescent stars from her ears
All her boyfriends, when they speak, sound like cool rivers
In the sky-blue of the day
She smiles
The way lilac bushes crush petals into joy

Now three o’clock in the precious afternoon of torn cotton strands
School lets out a riot of sapphire glitter
Some girl stripes her vanilla ice cream cone with azure breathing
On seeing this she faints like a toss of sprinkles

She’s woken by blue candy kisses
Like a cluster of stars falling
From a boy
Upon her face
The constellation of a crush

As she gets up
A thousand blue ponies slide from her rain-water hair
Before disappearing in the distance
Young children mount them tackling flowers

She kisses him
And lets slide the sky-blue of the day from her lips
His arms fall like water around her body
As she turns, racing to make friends with
The twinkling blue of a butterfly’s eye

© Matthew Goff

Towards love my thoughts run high
But with regards to women
in seeking their embraces
through pursuit never I
No, my desires speed through the trees like cats
With one girl in mind
I stalk the idea
with feline and fierce appetite

© Matthew Goff

Golden and ****
Now it’s your leopard smile
Their velvet evening

© Matthew Goff

Warm and white pillows on a bed of black night
I lie awaiting only you, nocturnal angel princess of secret flights
Over the clouds shall leap our light hearts and our eyes
Hand in hand in rescuing youth away the two of us will fly

O youth in tears over memories of pure delight
Hide not your face but let it shine this time
In the funeral of adulthood swine my right!
In kissing you I proclaim this precious life divine

© Matthew Goff

Held the hand of my bride
Stars explode around her
Teaching beauty to the world
-
Alone at the beach
Playing with ***** and solutions
A seahorse bites your finger
Questions unanswered

© Matthew Goff

Disappointment in the sky
She painted her hair purple with answers
And turned to her lover saying
“are you sad?”

“I wouldn’t call it sadness” he said
“just certain waves crashing certain rocks”
Ocean of thoughts
Uncertainty of tears

Sparkling philosophy on the sand

© Matthew Goff

Kiss clash and love sparks
Explode old philosophy
Claw the new romance
-
Sad in the branches
It’s just rainy day writing
Tears are flying birds

© Matthew Goff

Paul and Sara met through autumn winds
Society stabbing
Kissing while exploding romantic goals
Sailing through parental wishes toward better shores

© Matthew Goff

I dreamed away impossibilities! I wanted these circumstances to reveal themselves with everything that is wet about secrecy…

It began somewhere in the distance, amidst the hidden clamor of those already engaged in ****** flight! Some fair-skinned legs in night-drapery began to slowly spread open for us, encouraging my thoughts with softly white-winged smiles, flying out from under the treasured curves of playful thighs.

I took heed with not as much ease as one might speed…

© Matthew Goff

Pink walls outline the hormonal oceans
To peel back the secrets of wet
flesh against swimming pool corners
through waves of swelling libido
that crack the senses against the reefs of water-love
--
invitations on the silk sheets of evening
anxious to fold itself into letters of perfumed language
which absorb the night of its juices
leaving an imagination soaking wet

© Matthew Goff

I need to turn these days
into attractive dust
moments left abandoning
a selfish recreation
of secrets employing
their own role in
a landscape of desperate longing

like an angel whose inconsistent stability
will disappoint the
courts of categorical righteousness
tossing into the wind of verdicts
a rebel leaf that will
someday find its way
into the bedrooms of anxious jurors
showing once and for all
the impermanence of contentment

© Matthew Goff

Girl gives sunshine smile
A boy reacts with the moon
Galaxy flirting
--
She cries pretty glass
Her heart hurts for a freedom
She’ll walk with sharp steps

© Matthew Goff

While on a beach, when she kissed me with the urgency of a sensitive poison, I could not help but scatter across the shore-lengths, the households of my heart, allowing room only for the remedy, I looked beyond her and forgot to make room for her smile, that went unnoticed fading as a shadow on my face.

© Matthew Goff

Are you anxious, my dear evening? Are you not my closest friend? (Where is your cousin, my memory?) Can you not wait until that one afternoon, when we will pounce upon the horizon, like cats in heat, and tear the sun apart limb from limb? We will leave its sensitive shine to sweat upon pathetic days no more! Yes, the evening is a villain I’m proud to call my friend. Her ways allow much more room in the playground for mischievous  lovers, than those dull afternoons spent thinking about breathing. Where is your cousin, my memory? She has served a type of convulsively appreciative use for my feelings and continues to parade around my daydream swing set. Nonetheless, she has always remained a spectral participant in my life, pregnant with regret, and punctures my comfortableness with the sweetest of stings, leaving a taste with me she knows I’ll never forget.

© Matthew Goff

Inside the day, convulsions sweep me within the circular tide, whose currents endlessly root themselves along the shores of disappointing sentiments. Abandoning a singular precision, in using reverie with a blade to carve out the jewels with splendid contour, fashioned after the exquisite role of the past, I have failed to attract the elegant throats around which I stalk the beautiful endlessly.

© Matthew Goff

Octopus green child
His name while swimming surreal
Sea and mermaid strange
--
Cracked window ladies
With torn dresses on purpose
A pretty yet strange tribe

© Matthew Goff

She pours perfume through the waves
And gets ready for her sea-date
Rebels against her parent’s teenage warning
Crash of youth in the ocean
No one sees the splashing
And kissing in the sea

© Matthew Goff

Streets are wet with tears
Lipstick guiding sister smiles
And she combs sadness
--
She cried blasts toward him
Held her face kissed her beyond the clouds
Their own explosion

© Matthew Goff

I know of pink corners in the mind: Forest of sweet perfumes, whose travelers lend a hand to the ******* of sunset and its nervous mapping of amateur stars. There is a moment’s history in the certainty of salivating worlds: An odyssey for lovers who play cards at night and whose ideas for strategic foreplay are used like stilts. Hovering over a table, soaked with invisible juices, they are found flirting with each other’s secret personalities—heirs to the hormonal vibration of wet thoughts.

© Matthew Goff

Trickery by crown of aces
A contest of befriending faces
Noble curiosity stolen by sweeping shadows
Disguised in safe places
--
She stepped upon the pulse of the streets
And slipped between the drunken sheets
Hoping to find that familiar scent
Of ****** sweating in perfumed heat

© Matthew Goff

A collapse of tall trees
upon the innocent breeze
Of sullen faces, betrayed
by trial cases
--
Watch the women dive from treetops
Their men will probably fail in catching them

I am still while an arresting stare
Passes through my lover’s eye

She has seen the land fall with disgrace
And now waits for her transfer
From the mouths of celestial taste
Into the arms of boundless space

© Matthew Goff

Beneath the pulse of our lives
there bleeds a new laughter
A spider dune, seeds of cruel moons
--
Crowds who gather in sickening night
Mother teasing her gentleman’s cry
Hooray for the new talk
Ruined by its crooked walk
--
A tortured house spun from green silk
While children are nurtured ****** milk
A wretched web not yet built
A celebrated filth

© Matthew Goff

Streaked by the hours of moonlight
She sweats upon a rooftop cradle
A slow showering of heated liberation
As I swing along the fragile nesting of ivory branches
Stretched under the magnificence of her stability

And let her mouth, that soft vessel
Divide the gentle tide with a smile
That casts upon the crest of evening water
Two halves of a seashell

And let our embrace, soften the cool air
That parades around us, shedding secrets from our hair
And let me hold that hand that trembles
When the evening undresses us
With a yellow wink

© Matthew Goff

Leopard ladies will soon often prance upon men whose hearts are held together by single straws, by which a fragile connection has been made. Their skintight vestments hug them more tightly than any lover would ever dare attempt. Such intimate efforts are not beyond them but have been made afraid of by wicked arm’s length faces, dotted by the scorn of wild races soon to be held in trance-ridden spaces.

© Matthew Goff

Every night I lay into a pink sleep, which is the secrecy of her arm’s love for me. There is a solace for me in her eyes… if only I could live in their reflections forever! A landscape of exploding glass-works, that trickle wet stories down her beloved face. Into my dreams, they will fire an inscription of dazzling intimacies, in soft-blue storms of light. I want to run away with her down private roads, that glisten with the unrest of heartbeats.

© Matthew Goff

Inside the day, convulsions sweep me within the circular tide, whose currents endlessly root themselves along the shores of disappointing sentiments. Abandoning a singular precision, in using reverie with a blade to carve out the jewels with splendid contour, fashioned after the exquisite role of the past, I have failed to attract the elegant throats around which I stalk the beautiful endlessly.

Call her by the name of greek goddesses
She once painted the letters:
APHRODITE
Across her toenails
What about the last toe?, I asked
Someone responded
“she would polish it so she could mirror
the smile of the owl”
what a group I thought as I combed my
hair back with their satin words

I love just wasting away here
In the split gold jewel explosions of poverty

© Matthew Goff

Scent of roses around her neck
Encircling her white as moon flesh
Create a necklace invisible
Envy of the stale air around her

Curled up on the bed
Sliding like soft cats
We blend like smoke
And tender spark clash

© Matthew Goff

Together in the white winds, hoping to
warm each other’s faces
Our heads coil down upon
winter’s lake, while our kisses
crack sheets of delicate snow beating
whips of cruelty against the lips of narcissus!

© Matthew Goff

Evening descends upon them
And romance falls
Amusement park kissing
Adolescent waves crash
Love soaring through young skies

© Matthew Goff

She wears a necklace of *** dynamite
And love detonates the day
Conversations ignite
And honesty is spilled like water

© Matthew Goff

She dances
She has a sating gypsy smile
Smooth explosions at her fingertips

© Matthew Goff

PAUL: crowds walking the street. Parade of rudeness.
ERIC: you’re right. As if manners had thorns.
PAUL: a society unkind.
ERIC: are we gonna swing from clouds?!
PAUL: yes. Over the lakes too!

© Matthew Goff

He walked down the road
Thinking of her
And closed his eyes with sweet song

© Matthew Goff

Sunshine girlfriend
Held her hand through the blonde waves of the afternoon
Daytime explosion
The warmth of her clothing
It’s sensual sunlight

© Matthew Goff