Spinning on the north pole.
Truth be told, it's being pulled
in all directions thus the spinning inflection.
A prosaic misdirection.

4 cardinal directions but when they conflate
you get eight.  If you prorate
in-between you get sixteen
directions you can take.

The only mistake you can choose is standing in place.
At the pace your face is rotating on your flesh case,
your bones will displace. your mind will efface
from it's designated space.


Don't be a waste. Move along.
Pick one of the 16 directions you can take
Whichever one you pick is the road you belong.
Just get to where your going before your swan song.

This is that which floats
through air with talk
and smoke

Softlight bycaught notes
in the golden night
whereby sidecaught your tresses,
darkish and shimmerful in jerky
movement turning

face by face
listen by listen
never to settle

But O if once you'd settle
with those sharp eyes
you'd settle perhaps
on me

and byside we'd walk
on streets singing their
blackness into the sky
arclight lit

and that song would play out
that one with the melody like
burnished copper

If I was given a day
  By god
  Or whatever force there may be
It would be with you
In an empty room
  and you would speak to me
I would ask no questions
Utter no words
Invisible buttons would be connecting my lips

You would speak of it all
What makes you laugh
Favorite memories
Why you're so shy
  your weak spots

If you're selfish
what side of the bed you like
hot or cold  
sweet or sour
Marvel or DC

I would watch
knuckles cracking
touseling of thick hair
squinty giggles

My heart would grow immensely
With every
   Secret.  Hobby.  Weakness.  Preference.

watching your lips move
and your face morph
With every emotion

my heart would reach to you in sorrows
and leap at triumphs

Butterflies would become a typical occurrence
a smile tattooed on my face

that's all I desire
You
  I
voluntarily trapped in a room
shedding our skin
specifically yours

in no way is that strange
In fact   it's beautiful

I swear, my anger could cause a car crash.
Do you think I'm truly that oblivious?
My blood is boiling in my veins,
You have the audacity to lie to my face,
I have done everything for you, given you my all.
What the fuck is wrong with you,
After that call,
I am done.
My patience is gone,
It has disintegrated along with you,
Our trust and our love.

She gave me that funky vibe,
left over from her dysfunctional tribe.
You see that's how things are done,
when you are not the only one.

But I come from a different place,
Mama would just slap my face,
So how are we to coexist,
both checking off a different list?

perhaps skin, also, yawns into horizon,
delicate like surface tension,
fetal like parenthesis.
the moonrise is woven from short-staple cotton
and thus yellows, accordingly.

enclosed: the face of disappointment is actually a series of small balloon explosions;
girl heart, eight inches wide,
lighter than atomic hydrogen.

“his eye was like a bloody opal
and his lips tasted like black suns, citrus…”

human absurdity comes in nitrogen and phosphorous:
a dog, a horse, a rat.

the sheets were coarse and she woke with a rash.

some people are just cursed
with bad noses.
they could have an alright face
maybe even a really good one
but some out of whack
funky nose
comes and botches the whole deal.
p.s.
90% percent of the people affected
are bitter
motherfuckers
but i guess i can't blame them.

Breathe with me now
Let your worries melt
In the rays of sunlight hitting your face
Illuminating
Your shoulders drop
The wind plays with your hair
Twisting
Tangling
Touching
Skimming your skin
You hear the whispers
No one else could understand
Your lungs fill
Feel their tension
Release the breath
Along with all discomfort
Through your closed eyes
See the shadows of a cloud pass
Across the sky
Laugh
Hear it echo around you
Leaving the trace of a smile on your face
Stay while it disappears into the air
The breeze carrying it on
Taste the sweet summer
Let it roll around your mouth
Purified
Breathe with me now