who knows if the moon’s
a baloon,coming out of a keen city
in the sky—filled with pretty people?
(and if you and i should

get into it,if they
should take me and take you into their baloon,
why then
we’d go up higher with all the pretty people

than houses and steeples and clouds:
go sailing
away and away sailing into a keen
city which nobody’s ever visited,where

always
            it’s
                   Spring)and everyone’s
in love and flowers pick themselves

i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite new a thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body.  i like what it does,
i like its hows.  i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones,and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
i like, slowly stroking the,shocking fuzz
of your electric furr,and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh….And eyes big love-crumbs,

and possibly i like the thrill

of under me you so quite new

truth is in deep kissing
truth
is the soft shell of a
metamorphosis
truth is in the sun rising gently, murmurous, in the east
in a ceaseless search for purpose
in the way Death makes music out of us
in what has yet to happen
in what has yet to hurt
but how can you say truth is not
in misrepresentation; misunderstood art
how can you say it is not the love you feel
for every girl you've ever seen
               [the way you could almost melt as you
run your hand gingerly along her soft and her curves
and her edges]
how can you say truth is not a sin
how can you

The only
Not wanted
Was
Breath

All of you

My darlings

I loved

don’t think about anything

lay next to me with your hands in my hair and my hands in your pockets and you touch me slow and soft like you know what you’re doing

can you feel your heart swelling like mine as i lace my body between yours and i stare up at the cracks in the ceiling or down at the sidewalk or at the green in between the gold in your eyes

we went to a playground like we were children but we didn’t play

sometimes i want to stop breathing just to see if you’d notice

when you whisper into my ear i lose it it’s all hot air and *** and you say i love you low and sweet like a cello and i love you too but i can’t say it because my throat isn’t working

then it’s blue and bright outside and these sheets are so white and i wish you were here you smell so good and you feel so good and i want to run my hand along your jaw and your arms

i don’t know where you are right now baby but i wish it were next to me

sometimes i feel like there
is a reason we are here
other times i do not
but never do i know
what the reason might be
it’s a thinly coated secret
sharp on my tongue
it lies within my reach
at night and slips away
with the notions of day

it’s difficult
but not impossible
to live with this condition
of losing what you never had
and not having anything worth keeping