i'm so brainwashed
with the toxic smell
of chlorine

i am floating
in my swimming pool
all day

you don't like me so much

skin and hair wet
you say my eyes look red

well dear that's because
i've been writing

underwater poetry

all day

tipsy in bed
ate too much and admiring old photos of last summer, last winter
i never thought i was skinny but these photos look so slim
and then i tried to eat more this year, thinking too little would make me weak (even though i was strong)
and now I binge and restrict then binge
it's all so stupid and pointless
and i'm fine
but i looked better when i was ****** up

been thinking more about cigarettes
cigars, really (false sense of health)
gotta have something to do with my hands
but its an interesting thought, pointless.
sticky-scented, rearranged, row of wicks
bags pulling my top lids
reaching out my hands to the chipped paint on the ceiling
fingers ache
bellies too
5am ready for bed but aching aching aching

tensile strong the steel
feminine softness the real
picture first a garden
row upon row
green and fertile
making new
say with colors like the
people holding hands
in the city brown the heavens
looking down
judge
as they do
paint as any Picasso
a soft brush letting
it be real

twisting my ears to try to open up my brain
it's like the sound of waves against rocks
bashing fists against skulls
i miss you already but i'll always take the pain over forgetting

The moon has nothing to be sad about,
Staring from her hood of bone.

She is used to this sort of thing.

Her blacks crackle and drag.


Sylvia Plath

almond fronds for  visions
spidered eyes black a wink kisses
the cheeks   a sunrise nose spry
lips of tangerine peels left after eating  the heart
calmest flowing rivers shoulders of
the places bream nip
for joy under a water slip
she is jungled
shy as the panther in the shadows
sleuthing blending in and standing out
when your eyes do meet a sudden
reality
by god she is  beauty
the forest the green lush
thickets impenetrable dark illusive
illusory a dream a destroyer saviour a wild thing
a nerve fiber a coiled up  bindle  
of masks and hard sharpnesses and soft fur
purr

applying his
              lingual buds
   to the smooth
lush of her
thighs she rippled
         as a lava lake,
          no stone skipped            
                          just
melting milk, lapped up
in hungry pulses
cream of silk
   pounding thunder
        in consonants of
             taut skin drum
                nuances in vowels
         uttered in
animal dissonance
his bristled breath
all over her
              fingers
salivary intentions
over rim of lip
feeding the emptiness,
a holy vessel
more ancient than
        before time
              now ready
              to be filled by the
           essence of feminine
pineapple juice drizzling
firebud glistening
in fuchsia exposure
open gateway
      to divine outpour
a sacrificial altar
of unmasked psyche
completely stripped of
                     any pellicle
his palms firmly
planted in hot muscle
thumbs parting
            glory's hole
deer at the saltlick
lost in the velvet
just pour it in
thick molasses
not stifling,
only honeyed bark
multi-hued like
      eucalyptus deglupta
in buttery tips
dripping love,
all over her lips
and just like that, in
slick-painted dabs
of their own
acrylic-drip art
just like that
in the wild
            and thick
explodes the ache
of her
ripped
         apart
   heart