Forever was never till now,
The beauty of her kiss floated
As the petals of a (springing) flower
                 toward my face
And, obscurely taken back by the
       Silent solidarity of (a pair of)
Mused bodies forming an
     atmosphere of its own;
I slipped deeply into realms of our company

I'm laughing at life right now.
And its hideous smile is fading,
It's flashing its fists

jabbing at my gut,

But I'm absorbing the blow.
I won't give it the leeway
it so furiously desires.
I'm laughing at life right now.
I'm laughing at you,
I'm laughing at all the women,
All the
ghost women with
their long
waning
white dresses.
They're all so stupid.
But men are too.
All humans are dumb by nature,
it's the artistic ones that introduce a new kind of stupidity.
Nature is true
intelligence.
The trees, grass,
Sky,
Spider,

know more than any person.
They know the secrets of equilibrium.

People are complicated.
Simplicity
boosts its confidence far over the
heels of education.

And through this,
I've realized that life is taken much too seriously.
And love is only real
when love is in true natural beauty.
Love is unearthly.

Love is all the elements.

And inside all beings,
is dirt.
Soil,
And from this
reputable source of life
sprouts
the love
of the
individual.

And if you call me
I won't know where to look,
Somewhere gone,

The sea,
    
                The hook,
Alive; we're alive, dear
The mountains dancing, dancing by decorative moonlight

Garden walls,
Shoulders glancing and young,
blind girls of the island laughing at me.

Beast people
with strange markings and forceful movements,
Flowers- flowering towers of
lucid,
luscious
      Dreams of a vacant mind.

All of your (everything) lay beautifully
                   Behind my arms
your slow smile spreads plight alarm
into the nerves of my love

        Giving in,

Warmth.
    
                                   Growth

Of you and I, now so commonly paired
(the sun sees rising before our pondered inquiry)

           Returning now your eyes to my,

I witness pure beauty
     In the soul of a pure beauty

In the face of defeat
she shrugs her shoulders
and,
With a sigh,
Conforms my heart around her
golden breast
Devouring all consciousness,
Until I am bound
freely to her will

Deluge

            of the senses.

It all
comes

with no
fault
no green eyes

no home.
      
I don't want a home.
I want myself;
I want ******
of order,
I want weeding gardens
sprouting wild
and laughing at the moon,
I don't want to
want any longer.

I'm tired of wants.
I'm exhausted of other people's
need to want
and
want to convince themselves
of need.

I don't need anybody.

I don't want anything.

a place
has no more meaning, no connection
  with itself
   rather I
who sees with desperate eyes
toward each
possible
turn

Be w/me

   See w/my eyes

                Watch how you are

Who will remain,
when given the opportunity
We all flee

Wildest one,
Your reins tighten the air
      molding foreign
          phantasma
into gorgeous sunlight,

      I don't know how you do it

But I've never cared much for answers

I watch you read the book

               the book that a
          crochet of
             stiff wanderers
                        worn        hands
                        welt together some
     inductive hours  
    (some real good ones at that)
  
   what page is that?
the one where she goes “ah!” and the world
     crumbles to their
          hairline-fractured feet,
        
               I’ve read this one before

It was a cosmic morning,
The stars faintly hiding behind a drone blue sky
I'd been driving
Down streets,
Blur of
sacharrum
in the flash of road and freedom.
I remember two men,
being daylight and road
Cruelly battling for my attention,
both suited
and grinning from the clouds
down on my
nothing-green car
That has no difference
on this massive,
bizarre
earth.

I don't always know
      How to lay my hands.

When you seem to arch (rustling of ground)/hips, face, hair.
Brilliance. (And innocence is a warm company) to be given on such a
                      day.

I miss my
honey.

The fields were wrinkled, grey with snow
The matte (ice) clouds hung tentatively overhead
With eyes of white flaking wonder-
Crying helplessly onto the shoulders of that pink afternoon,
And suddenly
She wept;
For its raw sway was too much for the moment

You sit awake
and wonder what it must’ve
been like,
to climb against the air in whatever
life
you should choose.
Every search lay vacant beside
the pile of wasted time you have
allowed.
(Rather) not for
nothing, we’ll see where this one
takes us

I will not go,
Will not fear in the eye of fear
for
Terror is blind,
It wanders madly and finds those
who care for it

A poem for you
My darling,
Bathing in my arms

Pale walls,
Shadow figures cast by the prison sky
o'er the trees

A hyper dog
running circles around children
who don’t care
about the drink in your hand.
Boxes wrapped in thin-patterned
paper,
Waxed in doubt and self-preservation

(But simple and loving)

some Insect trudging
along the denim of
his jeans
It’s a happy state
to be in

Always chewing on something,
Always dodging thru the night
With a new
face

My fork pierced
                 my insides

and my sight's hunger
        yearns for
your taste

Light croons in the morning rise,
The slow demise-
                  the reductant night shedding
False, deciding it's time for the stars to turn and moon to cycle

the garden shadows
twist in daylight,

            The dance of the world

I see insects
crawl to their homes,
I wonder, my own

**** silence with words,
Talk, compose
It's all you've got left

Of the tick-tick mark of the train,
the Twenty items or Less that you wouldn’t have needed
had you not been walkin’ down Newbury
toward hopeless following
nowhere mud-feel-footprints.
Motif of heavy heartening rain that scours the courtyard
back ‘round my building
that skillet valley of impossible nighttime.
Ring slipping finger, couple standing farther together and wild a gracious call brushes against the grade of man’s terrible
mountain