PK wakefield
PK wakefield
1 day ago      17 hours ago

the you the




(which intensely does)                  Curve

upon curving
the twist of
some adamantine
hips collapsed
in one fatal crushing
of hushed nudeness                        Arrive

by mute girlness
of parting self

(where sleeps faultless
legions of boyness to kiss
with the waxing
of their paired moon
some wet keenness of bliss)

PK wakefield
PK wakefield
Jul 20      Jul 21

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 :

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