I saw the weather there
seventy-eight every day (every day) as long as you wait
for the clouds to burn away
they always
they always do

I saw the future there but don’t know yet if it’s
mine

I saw faceplates facades and artifacts there—painted bricks you couldn’t tell from the
real red bricks on your granddad’s house
(you don’t so much
remember what they looked like, but you are confident
that the difference is negligible)

I didn’t see much else there but the weather
boy
the weather is pretty in the afternoon

Oh, sweet, sweet friend
How may I describe you?
The beauty of our friendship
Is of much more value
Than a baboon's ***.
This, I'm telling you,
Is that a baboon's ***
Isn't of much value.
You're like
Something I'd walk on the streets of New York
where many feet trample on the pavements
where spit hits ******* the ground
and dirt rubs and snug itself tight.

You're like
The sound of beautiful woman
Inviting me to a nice, fancy dinner
in her huge mansion
With her gorgeous husband
And laughs along to his lame jokes
and gives me a toast
under the lights
of the golden chandelier
as her precious goods bounce around
in that low-cut dress
so absolutely sweet you are,
how much I adore the love in your voice,
the gentle one that kisses me goodbye
If only it was real
and not as fake
as the eyes you bear
when you tell me
I'm amazing.

You're like
a sweet wrapper
I'd happily look at
feeling **** guilty inside
nevertheless.
That crunching sound it makes
As it opens to a beautiful sweet
Chocolate! I chew you up and
swallow you down.
I'd never think something
so delicious and innocent
would hurt me so bad, and give me
Black teeth. Or potentially diabetes.
Nothing so tasty would **** me
slowly inside
forget the temporary pleasure I had.

You're like
Fresh, long hair
and a pretty little face
which bears ugly lips
that shoot out ugly words
and claw people around their necks
and suffocate their freedom of speech
or their opinion
and snubs out their rainbow
like a cigarette
My dear, you’re a monster!
Have you no taste for uniqueness
and creativity, a knack
in weirdness, the love
of awkward hellos,
and a shy but determined being
in the making?
You press down the people you think you can ****.
You, with your sharp words
and condescending eyes,
scrutinize my every move
and throw snide remarks
behind my back,
Honey, don’t you realise
You’re not perfect?

So I've said, you're a sweet, sweet friend.
You are!
As sweet as the poison that kills me
before it reaches my heart.
It has already killed my ability
to lead, to be empowered,
to be free.

So, my sweet, sweet friend
feel free to lace up the shoe
and wear it if it fits.
One day, I'll step on you.

I would liken you
To a night without stars
Were it not for your eyes.
I would liken you
To a sleep without dreams
Were it not for your songs.

you've got a photographer's
eye
and no camera
you look real close
to remember

i will wade out
                        till my thighs are steeped in burning flowers
I will take the sun in my mouth
and leap into the ripe air
                                       Alive
                                                 with closed eyes
to dash against darkness
                                       in the sleeping curves of my body
Shall enter fingers of smooth mastery
with chasteness of sea-girls
                                            Will i complete the mystery
                                            of my flesh
I will rise
               After a thousand years
lipping
flowers
             And set my teeth in the silver of the moon

"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"

From out the dragging vastness of the sea,
Wave-fettered, bound in sinuous, seaweed strands,
He toils toward the rounding beach, and stands
One moment, white and dripping, silently,
Cut like a cameo in lazuli,
Then falls, betrayed by shifting shells, and lands
Prone in the jeering water, and his hands
Clutch for support where no support can be.
So up, and down, and forward, inch by inch,
He gains upon the shore, where poppies glow
And sandflies dance their little lives away.
The ******* waves ******, and tighter clinch
The weeds about him, but the land-winds blow,
And in the sky there blooms the sun of May.

bones and skin
hair and teeth
eyes and lips
hands and feet