That there won't be another
is no longer what it was.

I knew the you you were
though now know what I've become.

The thorns of roses faded,
the salt of oceans dried,
allude to consolations:

to what was our love tied...

I close one eye now
to focus things close.

Somehow,
I've grown older than you,
though not outgrown you.

I'm no river.
I am the sand.
And you, merely the ocean.

And in no way now,
might we ever help each other.

I close one eye now,

just one.

engage me
low-late,

little tongued Leaf,
now the pocket's
in the shade
in the den.

i'm the length
of a dream,
on a left-hand path,


you're the dots
in the ink

we're the When

I was a lateral,
and ticking.
I saw the seams
in you.

You were the new
becoming.
I was
the precious you.


Stop reflecting,
keen sister.
You were
what I sought.

Be now
transparent, lover.
Become what
I have caught.


Such crystalline seed,
have I projected thus far.

So I sit now in silence,
to see just what
things are.

a face,
a voice,
a warm touch,

I will allow myself
to fall in love will all things

as I self-agree to act with non-clinging.


the clouds will pass as lovely,

should I suffer to grasp?

I am you are tree

If all is coincidence

Then I may be leaf

You didn't leave
      the way
          you thought you did.


             I realize.


Thus

     I move through,


                    instead of on.

There is a warm strangeness
                   that I hope will fade
     once I walk out under the sun.


The coffee is cold, but finished.
                        My mind feels bigger,
                                                 though emptier.


                              Acceptance comes before peace.
                 I am of the river,
and in it.

Sometimes,
I am the weather.


                         I might begin twisting,
                          and touch ground,
                              and leave only a line
                of disruption, sometimes
destruction.


                        I might throw off light-
                                      waves of genuine intensity,
                a Sun's love,
                                         a heat that sends some
                           to cover.


       I might loom large and dark,
til splitting open, to rain.
                                                And wait to think
                                                   on what fruits
                                                  that might bear.



I am
    sometimes the weather,

             not lonely,


                      only wondering,



               what other fronts

                      might be embraced.

you're knots,
you're feathers,
you're tall-stones and rings

no longer the cleverly low

the ****,
the burn,
and memorly things,

the mooniest shadow of snow


you raced,
you lost,
you learned the cost

your being, a needley find

as a shed
for rust,
love-oxides trust,

and your Evers is oxygen pined

She had worked five days that week,
not to mention all that needed tending to
in regard to house and children.

But now, save the soft leak
of birdsong through windows,
the house was quiet and still.

She felt a laziness
in body and mind,
and allowed it.

She found herself on the bed,
giving the woven blanket purpose
as it held her, giving her warmth.

There was no concern for
how long this moment would last,
nor for how much rest might be gained.

There was only
presence, breath,
and allowance.

This Whirlybird Backward
is falling head first,
and painballoon minder
is ready to burst,
so the Sun sets its course
'cross the way.

With darkening rhythm
well-finding its time,
and saddest professor
admitting his crime,
the edges so blurry
of which, is the night, is the day.


So turn me to stone here,
and set me the shore, dear,
that I may erode,
in a well-favored way.

i'm not here,
that's just the water,

a leftover dear,
and a fallover daughter,

the healths just a dot on my eye.

no cutting skin,
that's just a favor,

an octopus dry,
no sheet laden savor,

i want to define
this most sterile labor,

i'm the diggable pig
in its sty.

you are stranger than me,
but only
to others,
you cradle my facets
with silk

you're the waver of tone,
you deafen
and smother,
but just as they parallel
my will


you're my taunt's
favorite tease,
you're my ten millionth please,
you're my predator
unable
to ****


you're the rest
of my thoughts,
and my unhindered oughts

you're the shine,
and it's moon,


you're the still

your hair nearing my face,
I'm a jumble of nerves,
you turn and you
whisper like cats

I wonder my stance
and I backpeddle curves,
your clothes are your
skin under glass

my most favorite paralyze,
my most favorite still,

this eternity's
your hand on my arm

i love you more than life itself

i love you more than life itself

my body, mind and soul are yours

i love you more than life itself

I seek to fall into her skin
cloakless.

I sense her soonness,
as I smell rain
with the windows closed.

I have an unhappened memory
of nuzzling her nape,

and my body reclines into my soul.


The oscillating pogo-stances
keep me at bay,
though I feel the brink
of a greatness unsolved.

So I keep an eye open
as I fall through the bed.


My totem

considers her's
                           called.

'think'

skipsome-
skipsome-
skipsome-

(rest)

I
could have learned

to breathe
a long time a go.

(note)

A lorry spins quickly
on a road just wet,

(save,   )

and the never's just a
five letter no.



       drinksome-
    sleepsome-
thinksome-

(rest)

There isn't any you,
there wasn't any me.


     And a lorry spins ever
on a road still wet.


               wet,

wait,


                                      wet.

cool, glass favors
and steep, narrow stairs,

and I'm just a boy as a murmur.

nightgown elicit
and curving's entranced

and a boy well set up for a fervor.

with all borders destroyed
on the floor by her bed

and an innocence thrown out to sea.

I sit on this isle now,
well alone and awake,

searching for a raft

made by me.

there will be
only a shallow,

pleasured connection
til you learn
to tie the knots of my youth

into something new
and your own

or until,

you can teach me
to burn 'way the noose.


I found
on my own
with a struggle-pack demon

that the years never pass
with abuse,

so let's
'eye to eye'
with a love-wagered reason

and baggage all this kink

into use.

A pleasure sought
does not a monster make,
but I will stay away,
lest I turn you to usage.

I want you more than life,
and I would give as I take,
but I will stay away,
lest I turn you to usage.

You're the draw,
you're the muse,
you're the sleep that I lose.
You're the creature
when(?) deserved
that I will not let me choose.

i am the rot
in the gut,
and i remain usage.

the little dots,
the little dots,
the clever tasks
of hit-me-nots,

the flavor chase
of over-cradle tones,


      the rounded bore,
the tasted lore,
the keenest sweet
of evenscore,

the purgey smile
of freshly-rattled bones,


      will leave us here,
with blanketsmear,
the slowest breath
of hold-me-dear,

though room reverbed
with slender, ghosted moans.


      the little dots
of eyelid knots
will crest and lumber
sandy cots,

we roll the night
like sunny,

              bleaching,

                                  stones.

will they come with the nets
hid behind their backs,
the butterfly catchers
well-set to atttack
thespinnersthespinners
thespinners
thespinners
the found?

not first on their list
but slow, as keen
I'm in charge of the Tremble
though I'll not make a scene,
my mind is well packed
and ready,
to where I am bound


I am a given,
a proof displayed,

I am a math
of growth and decay


I am

eagereager

          moving

                                               day.

i am destructed,

    a coiled infant
     waiting for response,

i want it as secret no longer


keep me instructed,

        such toiled nonsense,

                  submitted, well-blinded, and stronger



       can it be merely lust?

                   the warm, hellish stone says no.


i do as i must,

              please You and sink,  un-

      til you let me go.


                                                           ­           
                                                     ­           throw me as hard as You can,

                                      dark hair, we're friends,

                         and,


i
     am


destructed.

now, i'm tipsy fine
and spatial divine,
this moment's the happiest glade,

and yes, stretch I would,
if only I could,
this second, pinpointed, and saved,


though my usual friend,
the Sun, will soon end
a perfection, so cursed to fade,

and i'll have to wake,
and on faith, sober take,
that i'll find
the Moon's shine
re-displayed.

with gratitude shallow
and three legged horse,
the broken is lucky and kin,

with meat more than sallow
and set offling's course,
the track's making room for some sin,

I'm stuck in the knowing,
the gravemarker's mill,
at best, a false uppity-chin,

a groove for the mudder,
and Degas for the paint,
a noose off the jump

for the win.

"such a tiny thread"
she said,
"the willow barks
and masker's head",
she clearly doesn't
understand the rules

"I want the keener
finding me,
I want the faces
fathom-free"
though sets her sights
on deepest of the fools

"I'll spin until
you see again,
the moon and wind
like us, are friends,
the tempest shore
is what connection fuels"

her freedom swings
my lack in time
"I'm your dove
as you're my rhyme"
I clearly just don't
understand the rules

lay me out as your clothes,

ever closer to you than me were the threads.


lay me out as your clothes,

a soul guarded with those colors to fade.



write a short, folded sorry
hidden in this pocket,

before you
lay me out
as your clothes.

dont want do nuthing

asylum in stead

smile at pendewlum

as it striking my head


with itchies so passing

i roll down my sleaves

as tree stuck in No Spring

i want
take my leaves

She, was very attractive.
I was a bet, very safe.

Ego and fear
are the poorest
foundations.

Married,
but never
engaged.

The bandiferd spots
Mark the afterglow dots,
The fervor that hangs in the throes.

I've often jang-herdled
The silk left uncurdled,
My comes and agains have their goes.

I've left the lust listless,
And appleseeds restless,
My truths are not something she blows.

The cherry's well-fallen,
And I've all but forgotten,
The chastities I never chose.

the sun sat long
over the horizon
this afternoon

as it lowered,
I sought to
bury and mourn
a partnership

the sun touched
the low rim of the sky,

I allowed myself to ache,
and tried to hold it, to keep it,
but
my eyes closed into vermilion
as I felt burning, and dissolution

I opened and stared directly at the setting sun.

I felt the words,
"You have to let her go.
I will find you another."

the light did not burn as it fell away

listen to me sleep,
    and maybe
I won't fade away.

but that's what I
should have,

                    said yesterday.



       I'm the whistle,
    you're the hum.


and neither of us,

  
               know the words.

I am a tree
who's been pierced by another.

There are heavy tangles.


I have a voice,
but no sight.

Where am I?
Where is she?


Our roots share many stones.

And at my finest,
there is only water,
and sunlight.

underflown
and overflowing,
stripped,
returned,
renewed

truthings spied
redundance plied,
her habit's
gone.
Unclued.

her heart is clear,
now I'm the fear,
how weakly
I
have proved

that what is right,
rarely sits beside
what is
easily
left to do

She sets tries in the Evers,
And with a fingerly snap
Does hope to move others
Toward a self aiding trap.
With a mirror none friendly,
Save a well tailored mask,
Don't waste your time here.
And don't even ask.

She may now be pathing,
And facing her truths.
But I'll bide still my watches,
And wait out her proofs.
I wrestle with nothing,
All but processed the pain.
I care for her now,
As the falling of rain.

I want you to dribble.
I want you to turn
From the matriarch past
To a subject to learn.

I want to state plainly.
I want you to see
What your vain, selfish givings
Have created in me:

Most lustful of torments,
Low pains from my knees,
A pattern for this mind's
Truly bittersweet disease.

Just twelve years of innocence,
Could've thanked you for that,
As you gouged in this monster
Within this boy on his back.

I often search for the key now,
That I might walk from this cell.
But I'm still Pavlov's pup,
With you holding the bell.

Feather the links now,
I'm hoppity wide.
My self sight may shrink
Til I stumble my stride.

I'm often the cutter,
Of wit, more than skin.
Attack me with caution as
Meet wears patience thin.

I'll dropkick your efforts,
And sweat through your pores.
My tongue, I'll not *****
While your ears left with sores.

My buy polar bearings
Have spun me til stressed.
You best let me be now,
My button's depressed.

I talk to the girl,
and hope the woman talks back.
I gaze at the swirl,
and hope for some slack.

I waste over chance,
and brace for the coil.
I strike, not as snake,
But I'm selling the oil.

I'm usually mere thumbs,
and a boat with no tack.
So I talk to the girl,
and hope the woman talks back.

We're not the dreaded foster.
We're not the tackled fate.
We're not the preechled tempest,
Worrying that we're late.

We're not the trench entangled.
We're not that speed trap set.
We're not anjlichen models,
You're happy to for-get.

We're not the unbecoming.
We're not the dis of ease.
We're bigger, smaller, lighter.
We do, because we please.

We're present, loving tendrils,
The cells that feel you give.
We're prosperous, furdy hopefuls.

You learn.
We flow.

You live.

fevered little saucer
lover's little pet
found the ****** stirring
found a matching set

live to tie the bedsails
love the perfect knots
leave the after glowing,
saddened by the oughts

take me in the binding
fake me in the pleads
beg for rougher handling
leave me on the knees

fevered little saucer
lover's little plate,
found Your ****** perfect
I'm Your soul to sate