PK wakefield
PK wakefield
5 days ago      4 days ago

a little raw beautiful you are the way.

                                            and ,ti evol I

the mouth that soft(that cruel) of teeth
and lips
is like it. thorn'd

and prim and

ringed in pinkness
of petals parting

on a pistil between.

such smoothness that rushes,
such skinness that prickles exactly
at the right arch
of its rising hips.

to meet with the riding
heartness of my surging taste:

blood and just
that tiny tang
of left behind from.

                                               (can i begin?)'(

and to fold you;
into my hands–as fists–
that unfold–inside you.

o open me quiet


more completely my
very closed.

that such
,of tightest whiteness,
spreads cooly

parts ethereally

the quirky mystery
of empty rooms
behind nice doors

(where every sleeping is awake
amongst such nothing so big
eats totally the quick figment of
a thought faster

than breath                                   )

.So let's small?

one beyond perfect
who through
neat newness
of skin is pressed

prying between
pages of same
glued by glueless
hands of everyday

her waist
her hips

                   ­       sthips

ing between new old pages of glued by
       glueless hands(
       of everyday.     )

her face

her              cheeks

do you i
have some

   of remembering

some remembering

i was when
you were

two cold outside
to walk and
we so
stayed inside you

were very warm


                                             (it was so cold outside)

at how does gleam the cherry rape of your cylindric pertness–lips–i beco
    me me in two folds of self on each one pressed the drooping brand of y
       our hands stings to cooly touch with the unhinging of cottoned hurt
           ing in when the sun suddenly of gradual imperceptible dying revo
              lves on the apex of youth its own immortal youth; such dreams a
                 s magic become the ethereal toyness of your wrists that fleetly
                    stagger of whiteness with substance wholly girl with two
                       breasts wine for a mouth and darkness for hair even
                          the night is jealous at their fibers and remarks with
                             disturbed violence a shower of stars to mark
                                its brunt, its curling of tight fingers into
                                  fists of foisted heating)
   ­                                         such
                   ­                     brightness
                                 ­      is a circle within
                                      A circle of
                                     tingling bruteness
                                     you have liked me
                                       to be between your
                                         smart raping of cherry
    ­                                                LIPS

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 :

let's go for a walk i miss you how deeply and beautiful  you are  amongst
such  things  as  sagebrush,  old  mountains  and  the  wincing  silence  of
pierced by bird throats quiet it is so  quiet  inside  you i  want  to  put  my
hands in there i want to put my lips eyes and mouth forever to lay  inside
you one blue spectrum of self in no parts the whole thing and always and
forever between the cold heat of summer your body's mind is a tight song
way over the mountains in a coiling weep of  rain  that  like  rain  touches
every frond of the light forest we are inside of whose body is trees of such
dark wood even i cannot say that i know them

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