boys boys boys boys boys
boys boys boys boys boys boys boys
boys boys boys boys boys

somewhere i am sleeping i can hear
the wind across
the span of my ear a flower
is bending in it is bent
bending in the wind
it is white
its petals are
its body is
thin it's green
it's yielding very
nicely

somewhere i am sleeping i can hear

Sag my corpse
in 32 degree weather
through the city of God
where paraplegics dream of running.
“Oh Rhodesian mercenary,”
humble my soul again
like in C(hi)(ca)ongo.
But remember
The revolution starts
on my mama’s bed
at half past six.

So excuse me while I smoke my drink like a Brooklyn Leftist from the 40’s tramples
burning cigarettes on cold pavements where codeine and Sprite
make any Tuesday fabulous because we already suffered from (and for) the goods of mankind.
But before you read me the history of Hatchepsut;
I learned the art of man within the confines of FCC regulations after my ‘Pa threw ******* out the window and made life in the cell not mundane by telephoning philosophical-entendres    
that tomorrow never happened.

He too was from the blood of the ancestors whose bodies were charred on as goods—
whose children now char their bodies with the goods of the goddess of Victory—
the official trademark for the lost Exodus—the blood and blue moribund—
sagging pyrrhic victories in 32 degree weather as homage to their charred ghost (fore)fathers
who preyed to the city of God for bread

On the wings
for long,
sky lights still beacon,
fuel gauge blinks red,
far destinations
ruled out.
Sea, a glittering
field of silver
heartily invites
but no landing gear
to alight on waves.
Floating on a limbo,
but my lover,
only co-traveler
just smiles!
believing in me,
waits for a
befitting end to this
exciting adventure.
A flash
connecting million
neurons in brain
each one coming alive,
**"let's navigate
our craft to heaven,
call it, Shangri La,
or whatever"

I had a dream last night
It was beautiful
I woke up beside you
Bodies intertwined
Your head on my chest
All was at peace in the world
And it was good

I had a nightmare this morning
When I awoke to an empty house
It was awful
Cold and lonely, I rolled out of bed
A solitary cup of coffee
Such a depressing affair
And it was bad

Dreams can be the best
And the worst things in the world
For as I learned the hard way
There can be two types of dreams about a girl
One where she loves you, one where she won't
The former a fantasy so hard to obtain
The latter a reality, nightmare turned to life

I'm afraid of what these hands could do,
For you or to you,
And what they might accomplish
While your back was turned,
Or your eyes closed,
Or your mind off wandering.
It's a ******* misery
That we can't be.
But what if we were?
Would my stomach still eat itself with fear,
Would my nails still pick at my skin,
Would my mind still refuse to rest?
Or would perfection reign?
Rain over both of us
Till we were soaked through
And when we shook our bodies
Water flew from even our bones.