Your parade makes me purple, it makes me thin as an alphabet, I don't know, I don't wanna understand. I'm an estimation, I'm over and not in great abundance. Don't defend me, I'm not the header atop your letter.

Open me, I'm like your chimney, inside your mouth I am the lips you dip your tongue through, growing with sensation. See me and seam me to threads and tow me through your ****** lines-

little piece of flesh
Just a little dance, Just a little romance
Keep me in your pants let me be your postcard
I'll float across your eyelids.

Let me know your name
You can ******* skin. You can see my seams bend, my hours grow a little tired
Lifting up your dress, I can taste your pastes, your pastel belle comes floating at me sideways.

Ours and again, you ask me, "is it a nightmare?"
You ask me, "is it a car crash?" You say, "I can feel you breathing." This is not a spell, there's nothing left, not even a little lie I can play with in my fingers, you say, "is it the moon in the stars." And I stop you from ruining the sound of words to preserve a moment. Something a silence and a dollar doesn't buy you. I ask, " is this you my love? You're an imaginary process I'm never going to be interested in prosecuting perfectly. I'm not- an extroverted invert, a spirit floating in the corner of your eyes. I'm over zealous, a zealot, full of youth, using grief to keep your eyes

But I'm cold now as I sit in the dryness
butterflies rainbows unicorns mermaids flowers anchors skulls puppies clouds razors and darkness- it fills never a bit of me. Summer trouble is like no season I have known, my anxious bowels can't seem to move to places I don't know, but weir the water is, my tears don't make a metaphor, but for the tomorrow, I'll wear that honor.

Smoking troubled teens, move their small hands up my pants in my rainbow smoking jacket, I'm younger in minds my feet barely tread. As solitude troubles some, I grieve in my lover's arms, I stitch a sorrow through tomorrow.

Belief takes too much work. Your lies are everything. I pretend to sway, with the parade in my brain.

Autumn clovers leave
The dirt it stays behind
Steelheads turn up the arms
I don't wanna stay, I see no thing but pride
That man he drowned. He loses everything.

Pinnacle ladies cry, they move up the yawn.
I shake the bed, until tomorrow's grieving.

It shucks our graves in two, splits the pupil's
Fearless cast. I can't run away, I can't make Friday.

The needle takes too long, the blood doesn't leave a trace. The opening is long to go, but
We wallow with it.

Each funeral is a thousand alms
They call to each other's arms.
They won't go astray, even if
You leave them.

Sorrow is my brother's lot
It takes up the head, and leaves us sideways-
Another whim lilts in two. The bridle makes the saw, that breaks down every god. It brands the flock, I don't look at anything.

This day grief makes it hard to go
Another man is bent.
My crooked spine, he shakes in torment.
Up upon the piste, broke down onto the knees
Nothing's there, but I can't look away.
Keep me to yourself
Like a secret you don't know
If I could just find a way
To live another day.

Oh yes,
Night terror, history:
The Orders of Guessing Hypothesie

Oven bubbling mutton
Ew, ew, ewe!
Nettlijg kethered kips
cym built

Figuring out the beating sounds
Against
Irony, Ann, me butte you plateau

Dactylic appraisals the young unable,
Kip Candy Whack
Fuzzy teg legs the lanolin glutton of mutton
The muted toot-toot of a train's  course of traction no left or right

Just go.
Just reverse.

Weighted out  fears for
Anxious rhymes with
Don't speak the heavy metal in the ending if he jungle. Danger plays to a child at play one day
Some pillows trying but something doesn't count.


Beautiful yours
Beautiful Hers

never fast again
eat and eat kirbojrrrrrrrr

Rich composition
Simple eyelids
Nictststensldnebt

Shards of the mirror that you smashed over a decade ago still lie fragmented in the fireplace,
Shining reflections of the present curse promised to be lifted seven years too late.

I lilt my head to the rivers flow, where a lullaby subdues itself and the riffles go. I am no good at harmonies, I wait until I'm fastening sleep, and I can unbutton the breeze, that our mid-October autumn brings. Some people think they know themselves, but I want to know you and nobody else. I carry a flame in my pocket, and pick rocks with you on the summit. Mountains melt and glaciers pass, there's so much life inside your laugh. You captured me at my weakest and helped me back into my best. We dance together on the two-track road, Fire Road 584, there were supposed to be agates, but the path was too rough to travel. There's not anywhere I wouldn't go with you. We can chop firewood at Grand Teton too, I will carry the hatchet if you will pull the wagon. We awake at 5:00pm on the reg, and share our nightmares with one another once we're out of bed. You feed my soul with your hugs, I return to you my very softest kiss. A base for us, a nighttime stark and chilled, only the sounds of elk drinking from our backyard rill. I want to smoke another, I light you another. There's no rhyme to hedge the fading warmth, bundled up under our coats and quilts, I wish the Summer was starting soon, so we'd never have to go back into the living room. Fires churn inside our guts, is it the cramps or each other's love- either way it fits my stomach like a Lepidopteric glove.

Pancakes and postcards soon, I forgot to buy stamps for you. You can't send a package, full of smiles and laughter. I told you I'm sure your skin was made for me, perfectly soft, and made of sateen. We ought to warm our hearts, and never be apart.

The jagged outlines of the snow-capped Tetons cast shadows on the Snake River down below,
The levees hold back the flow of the icy mountain runoff and the riverbanks behemoth sides swell up to the Rocky Mountains.
But all of man's efforts to control nature cannot dictate the love we have for each other,
Like the wild mustangs that gallop through the verdant fields that refuse to be broken by human hands.
We walk along the river banks collecting heart-shaped rocks to bestow upon each other,
These stones are not unlike the pebbles penguins give the ones they love.
We wade in our wellies panning for the gold that others forgot in their rush to find fortunate amongst the willows golden branches and sun-kissed skies.
Our frozen hands refuse to let go of the treasures that fill our pockets,
But our cache is penultimate to the paragon in my heart for you.
Every parallel universe pales in comparison to the one I share with you.

Everyday excursions amongst Sunday drivers posing as tourists.

We witness Darwin Awards in the lemmings' race to take selfies with grizzlies, placing children on bison because they forgot their glasses. And are convinced that equine photographs will warrant more likes on social media sites along with the video of a moose by the name of Dusty that charges their cameras to protect her offspring.

We have learned not feed the animals known as **** sapiens,
And instead we trek onwards toward Teton Pass where the wilderness returns on our serpentine drive amongst minerals that took millenniums to form. And pressures our world too often.

We lay upon our roof, the one atop our car, a cruiser we use to enjoy ourselves, while we cross the miles. Millions of things we speak about in order to inspire one another quite often. There is no order in this genus of foul-tempered and ill-willed human beings, there seems to only be our genius, and what we call as ours, while we stare upon the stars.

My twin flame, you called me that. Now I see exactly what you meant. And I feel so grateful, there's no room for hatred. The energy spewing across these pages, thermal currents rise as we share each day, and listen to so much music, we take our turns to do it, but never over do it.

I call myself a poet, because I have a magnifying glass I use to explain the world. I call you the artist, because your writing follows the lullaby of the music your voice throws.

Sometimes, I am sure I observe you sway like manes of wild horses, dusts of ancient visions, candle-flames or brightly orange and yellow lights. I wait to latch us into two and carry off to sleep with you, and snuggle into your sweet smells so redolent and sweetly held, until we stroll across the beat, your bass faintly brings.

May I encase all of us and all of time, while we eat pesto and then drift through awesome time, entwined together while our minds collude our brains to bring back items from the store, before we've even discussed what to buy for home.

When we gift each other greeting cards, I love to find the ones that sing their songs, and twitch in a paper-dance, that sells for too many dollars. Come go, come go with me, we get to live our own California dream. I have a taste for coffee if Teton County would allow it.

I hate ignorance, it's appalling and totally irresolute, especially the fat children fattened by America's foods. If we didn't pick our produce, we'd share diseases the CDC do not yet have names for, and instead we'd get to bleed out of our inner ears.

To be blind would be worse than deaf, because at least I wouldn't have to listen to the foolishness teacher's teach and give, to a generation of students who know more about capturing Pokémon with their handheld devices then how to get home without using their iPhones.

The mountains wait to **** a man, whose ego he believes can fill his pants, instead of feeding the mouths of babes. Until we see there's nothing, to profligate his future. And with a future outside of our peripheral visions, I only wish you and I had a better, safer place to live in. But corporations run this show, I hate to watch as America goes. So while some wonder, some wander and move, we can use our brains but that doesn't mean they will too.

This America is worse than Watergate.
And even I don't know if we'll live long enough to solve it. There's so much sad about it.

You know me better than I, better than I know myself; you know me like I want to, like I was my own world's father. A famous goddess, parishioners won't say her name, I wrote letters to her personally, but was never brave enough to greet face to face. There's a type of prose, only intimate partners dare to go, where adjectives take verbs in rounds, and lovers sing each other songs. I've you and you have me, I'm captured by you so lovely, there's nothing I wouldn't do, good or bad, I'd ****** for you- a great vegan harvest, all of everything for my love the goddess.

In a world worshiped by false idols,
Where musicians and actors are modern day deities and neon signs flourese divine promises in magazines and the televangelist newscasters inject the masses with fear and false promises.
Opiated zombies take to the streets and go about their lives sleeping with eyes wide open at screens that have more meaning than their banal lives. But I woke-up long ago looking at the photo of your limitless azure eyes through a photograph. Long before I met you, I knew that one day our paths would cross and we would drive through the desert, deserted towns listening to Townes van Zandt and other musicians that most have only heard of through top 40 covers of their soulful songs.

The cacophony of coyotes, pumas, rattlesnakes and rabbits darting to and fro, in front of our headlights as quartz crystals reflect the full moon light, and Joshua Trees dance beneath the stars while we talk about Morrison, Harrison, Hendrix and the impact they have had on our lives. While most are drunk or dreaming, we are living the ultimate dream. I cannot wake-up to a world without you there-

Beside me and a space pig curled up asleep on the backseat as we trek across the Milky Way.

I smell the fires, their noisome stench fills my nose with the harsh turpentine and piceous smoke, but in the night we cannot see the trees. This fire could be right off our balcony. It could just be a neighbor's barbecue. How can people enjoy eating burnt and coal-battered meat? Your Uncle's neighbor apparently enjoys street meat. He killed a tick-covered deer, while he rode his scooter over the pass at night, and lied, he said he hunted it with his bare hands. Why must men and women and people lie, as if their stories capture more attention if they don't share what actually happened.

Dear you, I love you so. More and more with each passing day, I just hope one day we'll both leave this place, and share our final breaths in the same Earthen place. I promise you I'll share my final resting place so long as it's in a grave. I worry you'll want someone to spread your ashes, on a ski run in Aspen. Can we pretend small creatures live inside our walls, and rule a kingdom somewhere on our second floor, where Fraggles scramble to complete construction, on a network of tunnels.

I told you I would re-propose to you every day, I love you more than words can say. It's unquantifiable, just look beneath my eyelids. There's a man who used to share the hash he smoked, in a cove, somewhere in Venice, where the locals met us.

I'd drink and quaff your humanness, the pulchritude I cannot resist. The splendor you exude in all the passions you choose to do.

Hey you, if you find me here. Let me know if I'm still alive. I've made a wish to live, and be the father of your kids. We sing and laugh and sway, we eat apples and honey and pray, to an invisible god that could disperse all our flaws. And this moon, the one that has shone itself on empty roads, ignites the stars and stares at us shattering this cold. You were made in the image of life, I've been incommunicado but connected your dots. I wish I could color you by numbers, and count the hours we've slumbered.

There's cold-weather dripping from my nose. Where howling wolves and coyotes go. Where elk canter and mule deer pass, and a small boy moose named Bullwinkle waits for his mother to come back. Here is where the spotted marten eats from a rotting corpse, maybe it's a small naked shrew, it's map lines strewn across this town, where tourists think they know us, but they don't know my goddess.

Hey love, I'll never leave you alone. I'll never go to bed before you arrive home. I try and try not to yell, or even raise my voice above the evenings sounds. Do you hear the moose stepping on the frost-laden grass? It must have been starving for it to come this far. I'm learning now I know more about nothing, which I prefer to knowing something.

My hands won't put on the show, I told you I thought I knew. I prefer to be going down, so long as you'll always be around. I could count ten seconds until I realize my sentence. Poor birds fall out of the trees, there wings must have been freezing. I wait for you and I wait for your words. Your heart is made from all the things, I've only recently realized I've seen. Together, forever more. I take my hat off and hold open the door, I kiss your neck and eyelids and enjoy our shared silence. Keep me and never go away, you're worth more than the sky may lead, or the oceans breathe. I won't step, I won't speak, or breathe. Dear goddess, you're the only one I need. I need no one but you. I only need to know that you need me too. And one hour our shadows will meld together, while we wait outside freezing as we wait for summer.

But each season holds its own magic,
A seasonal  zeitgeist where we create our own traditions that supersede the Hallmark holidays that our oligarchies have created to lead people astray from the cohesive love and communal celebrations that our predecessors revered.
Yet each moment is a cause for celebration for you are a part of my life. I cannot wait to call you my wife.

From the moment I awake and feel your warm morning breath on my chest,
I breathe in the perfume of you and kiss you gently on the forehead as you hug me closer and face nuzzle me more deeply.
Each day, more perfect than the last.
I fight sleep because life with you is more splendorous than the culmination of all of my dreams. A symphony and an endless sonnet, fairy tales cannot come close to telling the story of our love.

You show my fingers where to go on the electric guitar strings of the mahogany fretboard of the guitar you gave me for my birthday.
My hands are slowly learning how to the play the notes and lyrics that I conjure in my mind. I cannot wait to play the songs that you inspire my soul to play. We shall sing together - a melodic harmony of a quixotic ambrosia that accompanies the vibrations of my guitar strings filtered through guitar pedals and amplified in warm undertones by the Fender tube amp.
Your bass line keeps pace with the heartbeat of the song as our voices go on
Singing the songs of our adventures
As leather wearing vegans and expedition smokers.

We smoke Marlboro Red Labels to pay homage to our Americana heritage,
As we drive the Prince of Darkness to foreign lands in search of crystalline moments to write, paint, create and sing about the dream we live everyday.
The dream I live with you my dear
,is the one I never want to awake from.

I greet another, she can't greet me. Alone in the world I'll be. To California I've followed me there, every girl I've met shows despair.

I enter the forest, I follow a friend. But when she sees me she's silent and still.

I chase my shadow, I follow the sun. But it's dark and I'm alone again soon. Here is the question, it isn't asked but is seen. Will I always feel for much more than the human beings.

Ravens suggestions and snow covered pines, for her I'd rearrange time. I have never forgotten our words, we'll keep the promise even though it's absurd. Children gut themselves with the knife, and bleed publicly but their mothers know why. We shallow our breaths, we hold our heads down, and beat our fists on our chests. Through tomorrow we'll lay in our empty beds. Until the poison softens our heads.

She never gave me an apology. I just sit alone drinking bottom-shelf wine. I take down the down with the drugs and go down and warm myself with some morphine and smoke till I'm gone. Drop the fire on my pants, set fires to the floors, until she'll take me to the bed that once was just ours.