I want to open my eyes in the morning
and meet the cool
familiar
crystal blue.
I want to forever be the big spoon
even though,
we both know,
I wish it was you.
I want to linger in your smoke
as your laugh reverberates
off the trees,
off the moon,
off the stars,
and resonates.
I want to say those things,
those things that make the corners of your mouth
part
to reveal a curtain
of pearly white-
your own sweet work of art.
I want to be pulled close
into your warmth
as I dare you, again.
"You won't kiss me."
Because we both know you will.
It always happens
in the end.
I want to take your breath away
like you take mine,
it's true;
Simply,
truthfully,
passionately
I want
you.

There is dusk
twisted

and circling
through the air,

as western mountains
devoured a Sol,

boiling blood:
impure, but thick with hopes.

Singing dog songs upwards:
the unrequited lunatic.

Pulled to you
like a current,

coming close
but never touching;

(i ache like the sea.)
or heavy stones sinking-

Find me, i'm Septentrio
and you're Eurynome:

and what was waiting to hatch,
has already been born.

Carving up Chaos,
to make my home.

A person once said to me,
"Love guides you."
I don't know about that,
but I know I can't sleep
because the outline of you
is still traced into me.

And every time I try,
my eyes
burn, wet socket fire.
And I drink to sleep a dreamless sleep
because in my dreams
I feel your head in my chest.
My bones are your bones
and we dance.

My face gets close to yours
and I whisper from a movie
and everyone in the theater
cries when we kiss at the end.

You must've been a supernova
because I can't see anything else.
You must've fallen from heaven
and right onto me because I'm paralyzed.
You must be a drug,
because I shake when I take you.

And I can't take you.

Love guides you.

Off a ******* cliff.

Hog Butcher for the World,
Tool Maker, Stacker of Wheat,
Player with Railroads and the Nation's Freight Handler;
Stormy, husky, brawling,
City of the Big Shoulders:

They tell me you are wicked and I believe them, for I
have seen your painted women under the gas lamps
luring the farm boys.
And they tell me you are crooked and I answer: Yes, it
is true I have seen the gunman **** and go free to
**** again.
And they tell me you are brutal and my reply is: On the
faces of women and children I have seen the marks
of wanton hunger.
And having answered so I turn once more to those who
sneer at this my city, and I give them back the sneer
and say to them:
Come and show me another city with lifted head singing
so proud to be alive and coarse and strong and cunning.
Flinging magnetic curses amid the toil of piling job on
job, here is a tall bold slugger set vivid against the
little soft cities;

Fierce as a dog with tongue lapping for action, cunning
as a savage pitted against the wilderness,
Bareheaded,
Shoveling,
Wrecking,
Planning,
Building, breaking, rebuilding,
Under the smoke, dust all over his mouth, laughing with
white teeth,
Under the terrible burden of destiny laughing as a young
man laughs,
Laughing even as an ignorant fighter laughs who has
never lost a battle,
Bragging and laughing that under his wrist is the pulse.
and under his ribs the heart of the people,
Laughing!
Laughing the stormy, husky, brawling laughter of
Youth, half-naked, sweating, proud to be Hog
Butcher, Tool Maker, Stacker of Wheat, Player with
Railroads and Freight Handler to the Nation.