voluptuous;
i take shelter
in cast iron alchemy,
a place where GOD
becomes familiar
and i become unclothed.

as line
and white space
and a pair of pink, pink lips
would have me speak
i speak
and say there is magic
in the salmon;
magic mighty enough to fight the bear.

and i taste peace
in the cask
where water sits as spirit,
waiting to flood over the room
like does light through the window
from the post
in the street.  

i take my repose
in a woman
that can fill my mouth
with the whole calendar
and can fill my flesh
with the feeling of home.

I'm a cup
of something green.
You have lips
that are smothered in that green
and you wear my tall hat.

Long ropes of rhododendron
are a different green where I hide.

I have a big, round nose
on a big, round face.
You have a slender, angled nose
on a slender, angled face.
I have a tall head
and no shoes.
You have no shoes either.

You're a cup of something else;
too full.
You spill on my chest
and I kiss your lips
to get back some of the green
that you got from me.

The whole thing
lives between you
and your toes;
I lick you
to see the world again.

damsel of string;
wait-listing
long tables
full of leftover dribble.

guard of course time;
hamstrung
between yellow and gold
between black and fuscia.

founder of the pulp;
tear your ears off
and grind them into a paste
of vibration and alien blood.

mother of the mirror;
don't look at us.

I am the coyote
with no response,
resting on the light
that emanates
as self  
become whole.
Essence of energy,
vibrate together.

wash board scrub down
in a porcelain tub
off the path of Cornville, AZ

hot summer juniper
makes
dry skin from bone
sand red

their delirious diamond
worships the void
through the garden sun

ready to see beneath
the whispering urge
behind the gorgeous
smear
of chant
& vision & want

lust madly

I go light and lazy
for the drooling moon

panspermatic
textile view.
liberated decor
dances as a shake
as if real slow
and to make a wave to the curb;
a greeting.

hyperborne
and sensitive to touch,
a pouncing rubber headache
forms mush out of rain.
many people
strike accords
and many people
block the act,
but I'm certain
entropy will prevail.

ion spaciousness
between
earth and craggling, ethereal,
celestial joy.
volition celebrates
in open channels,
growing as the vine.