softly opening eyes, seeing you lost and your mind swirling in cosmos
a peek and a secret smile crosses face
arms and hands reaching and grasping, kiss intuitive
tongue searching and teeth intervening on lips
clothes slowly coming off, hands imploring, asking questions:
what is it like to touch the softness of your inner thigh?
may i pull you closer to me like this?
hands now urging:
i must memorize every inch of your skin.
mouths searching on collarbones and clashing with veins
pulling them in and leaving a colliding of firework spots:
purple bruised, summertime blackberry bush thorns.
song change, at a turning point to you,
you push forward, absolutely drinking in
everything you can at once, hard and
pressing body to body so tightly you would preserve flowers
(if one had bothered to bring a crown of violets).
i'm beckoning and suddenly bold, my hands now curious and
my mouth looking for new material,
something with which to build a new collection of moans
and gasps and things that make your fingers clench.
warmth flows from my mouth like honey, my tongue
roiled and flattened
a quick glance and you are breathless and
my blood is boiling in the most fantastic way
you grasp me hard and every weapon you have to
make me helpless is in use. lights. it ends.

loser loser loser tired dawn bleary eyed hand curled on flowers
scraping shoe across pavement worn soles kneesocks mr rogers backdrop sky
dialogue written character fake animals fake trees fake streets
nonexistent breeze haze geometry in the sky
pale skin human flaws marks scratches heavy bassline no lyrics
cross legged cold parking lot top of the world where are you
i am here i'm waiting i'm just a loser loser loser
eighties buildings sharp architechture human invention
empty tennis court cracked follow the lines loser loser
shifting not really here just driving urban deterioration
no existentialism just close your eyes you'll be here tomorrow

I will share my day with you JOYFULLY
whether you like it or not

The canine eyes with deepened breadth
and knowing wandring gaze
he stands upon untimely death
and steps into the haze.
the deepened barrel, heaving chest
and air pushed into lungs
push him out onward to the crest
to distant shooting guns.
with limber leap
and sturdy paw
my canine friend will seek
into my lap and he will draw
himself against my beating chest.

My pretty pleasure bringer
Wraps his body onto me.
God knew what He was doing.

Caught a hanging raindrop
While God screamed in my ears
Controversy in not controlling
A heavy wave burning to my eyes
--And I wondered how I caught that raindrop

this Moody, sunny day
I dress for a place not like this
Hisingen blues

I think I found you when I was
halfway between crying and laughing
Lost in misty daydream
And when I turned you were
Another vapid illusion!
So I put my hand right through you
--But it stopped right at your heart--
And I held it in quiet contemplation
only smart thought flowing through:
"What is this?"

Sometimes still difficult
To face the way I'm headstrong in being my own
And like standing on people's back porches
And pricking shins in blackberry patches
And the way heavy summer air tastes best
when you're crying
In someone else's backyard.
Easy to find a place
You can quell loneliness
Against your own image
In empty stomach and acid teeth.

your favorite taste
on the tip of your tongue...
where is lover?

we are enthralled and charged
every wintry fingertip shocked by steel
your skin is soft onto mine--
i press myself to you--
press you into me--
this seemingly endless wash of love
i have known you in every other life
and have reunited with you at last

worn subway bench
my existence doesn't matter
to the steadfast

This long and earthen road
mud and dusty roadside weeds
flanked by crows and slim carrion
my body knows the way and my dog the scents
of mailbox to mailbox and eyes out for rabbits
both in our quiet companionship
winter’s breaking in this town

water kicks into my shoes
but that’s okay
whatever to feel like childhood
and my sad Mary memories

I watch a sepia ghost on my peripheral
she stands by the pond, murky
stops and stares
and I stare back
without manners

and back at home,
the rafters creak
and I’m surrounded by woodburner smell
and stripped down to my underwear
I let my back burn on the crisp heat
and tuck into my books.
the saints and kerouacs speak softly.

lights are always on
but nobody using
glaring ephemeral hallways
a room only for passage
simple twisted ankle
the way the hurt calmed you
and smoothed the waves
.
always another way to find up
riding the waves
never one half or the other
but sure feels like it

The clatter of plates,
the patter of paints,
the rows of artly brushes lie
Down dear upon a nasty desk,
pushed right up my bedside.
My eyes they droop,
my fingers itch,
my laziness presides,
Return to bed,
you sleepy-head,
and dread the morning-tide

the days of the week have become much more relevant
when every day is the day i'm wishing to spend with you
curled up in the warmth of my honeysuckle bedsheets
our knees to our chests and our eyes on eachother's lips
my wandering hands and your tendency to press against
and our eternal desire to speak in silent streams.
we kept quiet for a while, struck by the daybreak sunlight
and the way steam slowly rose from a foreign mug.
until your starved hands felt for my collarbones
and your teeth were no longer shy to mine
and your straightening spine carried me to refuge.
you were not any particular way but passionate
and your subtle voice carried me to your rescue
and the most satisfying thing I have ever seen
is the incredulous look on your face and
your slack jaw and messy hand-ruffed hair
eyes wide with the face of spent thrills

do I imagine water pouring
down the walls
at fairmount?