Starting is hard
Growth maltese candles
The painted board next to me
Where i sleep
Cars, unrelenting bring an incessant drone
That lulls
Exstasis
Mechanised intrusion grants
The brevity of randomized input
The aversion of direction
This isn't a poem
Nor is it not a poem
This is a home
This is a home
Shampoo crease salt licks
Salt salt salt salt salt salt salt
Salt salt salt salt salt salt salt
Not that but there was something else.
Not what just happened but something else
I remember when i try not to.
I always forget when i try.
I can feel it
It's not suppose to be remembered
It's there to be felt
Something like that
Something similar
Im not going to just say 'something' on a single line
Nope no.
Nothing
That was ordained
Now this is nonsensical
As if any of it was.
Reading
Nothing yet
Nothing worth saying
Yet
Yet.
Yes
Ending is hard

It feels like sand on my breath
Like dunes in my chest
They are silent
But they are not still
Heaving gross quarter
Leaking for most water
The unscratchable itch
Can it be denied, of which
I am left outside, neck twitch.
Hands force paint in from closed 4 seaters
Enough
Enough
It subsides
As do my words
Am i anything without my words
Would i choose words over feeling
He said, as all the dry paint dripped from the ceiling
And there was love.
Nestled in the corner
A concave attitude begged no less of what there was to offer.
And we gave and gave.
Stretched innards in closed fists
Adorned by salesman with neat.
With neat.
Withering, neat.
Forgiven heat.
Not much to give
But we must eat.
Die and let live
For the succession of wheat.
Basket bare more than their share.
While the humans are simply denied theirs.
When.
When does this part end.
Soon i hope.
As if there were something.
Something to be had.
After.
Besides the calm. When the calm let's us notice our own distaste in it.
Not that the tree trunk needed that.
That hug.
But it helped the armless. Armless.
Or was it a kiss.
The mouthless.
Something dark.
Force them to spit.
Ask them to sit.
Did that have to rhyme. Did any of this have to. Did it take away. From
Take away from.
Cultured eyed breast sore
Vultures hide crest something

Coastal seizures. So sand fills a sun-kissed cheek.
Boasted features, hands lull movement in hips so meek.
Thumbs peel lids to stretch the Sun into clefts that reflexes forget
******* press against throats and ears to breaths.
Palms press ditches in chests to remind hearts of blood to teach.
Lungs keep secrets that tongueless kisses were made to reach.
Salt water rinses cheeks of death and cold stares
Paroxysms exhume life in the form of humid air.
Grief slowed as tides fell.
Teeth locked as cheeks swell.
Water took softly what it had let go
More than shook fondly but it had let grow.

I.) Bodies of

Open lakes are naked
Their secrets,
Rub like salt.
How did one get here
What seized the labour of hands.
Do we deserve to know.
Do we deserve to know the extent.
Do we deserve to know the extent of our own subjugation.
Knees meet dry earth.
It's dry where we forget to water it
Not that it needs water,
Salt finds form
In our negligence.
Arid insincerity spoke of more.


II.) To follow

We left.
We did not need to stay
A dry sterile whisper kept us there
With it's pleas for us to leave.
The trust of invitation,
Burnt holes in our wings.
Untrust of warning,
Had us leaving without our things
I don't know which is better.
A departure announced drew heed to soft cartilage.
Unsharpened curfue split bone without piercing the skin.
The expression of self.
Callous wanderers knocked at no doors;
to accept rejection.


III.) Reintegration of being

The want of murmurs in wanton misuse
Kept us foraging for lust,
For more,
For inability in casualty.
We waited for forest to arrive,
Bare earth begged of no candour,
Trees deny script.
Unclenched hands greyed over context
As purpose gave none where some was due.


IV.) What the stars offered

A quest unrelenting bends bark in fervour.
Do we know why we left,
Cold hands hock at swords needed to keep slight wrists in check.
Or where we are going,
Our aimless pacing finds direction in blind eyes and guided hearts.
All the dust settled, buried in puddles like art.
And the thunder was there
The thunder never knelt
But we listened
To listen was the choice.
A brief connection with the sky
Through it's reproach
It implored for something more,
Only upon deaf ears.
Was earth all there was to rain on?
We thought, as the stars spat on us.
Celestial offering in cleanse not spite.


V.) Love

Maybe that's why we left.
To trascend our own ideas of love.
Innocent foliage made the path harder to see,
But easier to tread.
Gentle arches hug mounds of green
Like finger tips kissed by yonic flesh.
To remember the conception in contact,
Was to recognize our own affirmation
And any word intended for the ears of the unknown.
Blood is replaced where word is love.


VI.) Relation to self

To stay or leave was not the choice
The distance from anything was illusory.
The real choice, was acceptance of self.
After the end of our disintegration,
The dry heave,
Leaving without hesitation;
We are not without ourselves.

A hyperactivity that sees no expression
Lack of divinity that bleeds from intention.
False flag débutante gives warning of cluster ****
Salt bag-bread crumbs gets poured into flustered cuts.
Deeper into forest fervor, I hope the hounds don't lick it up
Creeping into ogham order, I hope god's wounds will be enough.

You're soft and clean.
Nostalgia fills the throats of Cherubs,
The milk allows them that respite.
Hoarse valleys are no longer bare.
Wings, like lips, flutter upon landing.
Wings , like hands, stutter upon leaving.
Blonde hair holds the Sun in place,
A Sun made to reflect your stare.
Honey filled orifice bled into dry rock,
That was all the land needed,
As it missed feet it had never held,
And knew the paste of blood all too well.

Untainted blossoms grew to flesh as they should.
Dust hugged knolls knew more.
Sun-worn cloth draped to her sternum.
To ward off the passing of warmth-
Warmth brought a heavy air
An air to be sent back to the ocean,
The air knew what it carried
It carried it all, but never had to let go.

The rain falls all the same
On every field of old feather and seed
The rain fell all the same
On every concrete upheaval, those with corners
They always have corners.
The rain cares not for the sound it makes
Only the fall.
To be alone.
The return to dry earth, forgotten.
Rich blood in a warm heart.

Leaves pile and rot.
Hands exhume themselves.
Sunset stained cloth,
not covering her eyes.
Her eyes.
The colour was sharp.
There was no rain.
Air held itself in sharp layers,
She knew the smell.
Her eyes drew colour from that air
and what it could do.


She held the rain before it could return.
Snowflakes formed on her lips;
Words that fell,
how they loved to fall.
Carried by her sighs,
the snow never touched the ground.
There she stayed
her toes not quite touching bare earth.
Her words carried her.

Yuki was not the rain,
Although she knew it all too well,
she was intricate potential.
Her form was chosen.
A manifest of all the beauty the world had.

The harbingers keep colour in lesion
All the elites convict us of treason.
Unfurled lectures deny credibility
Poised on the rot, kept their dog-like virility.
Ledge of artless puppet-fervor
A plateau effect, might as well be ******.

It poured out her mouth and fell on each season
To walk with beasts in relation to reason.
She expressed all she had and it drenched dry earth
Letting the brush remember it's worth.
Not that of flower but that of field
And more emphasis on quality and less so on yield.
It reached dry sands but stopped to implore
The salt knew, and her water was more.
None left to give to and not one who would take
There was lots to go around, all of it heart without ache.

Sky a scarlett rose
Sky a wolf so meek
Sky held in repose
Sky held in her own teeth
Sky the earth and all it keeps
Sky the birds and all they can't reach

A trust indemnified by chance to breathe
Gouging ankles keep knots to wreath.
Caduceus' serpents hold fast to feet and leg
A pledge was brought and signed without need or beg.
Grace permeates the steps like **** in field
Almost manifest for outstretched hands to yield.
Benevolent after thoughts bring what share they can
Self-reverent past to wrought things that dare sway hand.

you're my sun you're my moon, you're the softest hour of noon.
you're the dark you're the light, you're all that's in my sight.
the grass and the trees, the hum of distant bees.
you're the air that i breathe and the weakening of my knees.
you're the sky and the stars and a wish flung afar.
you're a laugh you're a sigh you're the photons in my eye.
you're a word to an ear, you are love you are fear.
you're some cats you're some mats,
you're milk curd you're my lack of words.

Long elective count to meager
As thought throughout the countless, eager.
Wanton cast and a dredge of river
Sometime past, came to crab and sliver .
Wrought the rest carried littoral to rocks
Bent on the watch to release limbs of locks.
Sought abreast a squirmish glean of hand
Slaved to field, a dry-mouthed harrow of land.
Trees come forward to shade separation
We seep, never coward, to breathe such placation.

Verandas at supper time & plates without rain
cutlery placates the hands to the vein.
We watch our fingers as they feed upon air;
our bodies moulded into the normailty of chairs
nostalgic is the taste of ravenous affairs.
Our hands grow tired of non-essential shoots
As we remember that this ritual is just displacing air.
Now clawing the ceramic, reaching for instinctual roots
beyond our own edible malfunction of sought repute
growing trained eyes for gnathic refute.
Now beyond the slumber of western lands
knife and fork asunder; we eat with our hands
now beyond rituals of conservative man.

Anna encrusted dust suite luster
All of the bevel the ocean could muster.
Trust, the comfort found here at the shore
Sands to revel in all you adore.
Further, floors elude the light for placation
As roots are harboured, an act of vocation.
This tree gleans no place of rest
But chosen as berth, the hold for a nest.
An expression of palace and that of place
A digression to speed and not of haste.
But throats grow dry as if necks could curd
As we depart to our homes again like the bird.

To trust the rust wrought lemon husk
To edge the endeavour far beyond cussed
Weft warped kisses dress un-silken chest
Cleft clawed viscera separated not even
by breath.
Dust dredged surface beds descry all but
the separation of legs
our bodies dressed in skin and flesh
our eyes undress what was left
as feet fold right to our chest
Remembrance seeds your rosemary breath
An eternal path gained through worldly deft
As voids are filled like celestial nests

Each letter i scribe
comes straight from my mind
not knowing where to start:
is ill-spoken words from my heart
how can my heart & mind be so indifferent
all this time, could it be misspent?
i spend these days with your image
in my eyes
much more than ever present behemoth
skies
all i want to do is hold your hand
i don't know if i can walk all that
way it's getting hard to stand.
i'll get rid of this invisible hinder
and perhaps feel you between
my fingers.

with fingers laced then we'd descry
every celestial body in
that overlooked sky;
The thing i fear is when we've
counted every star and named
every moon, tasted every cloud,
this day might come too soon.