matt r

matt r 2d

She is
        so wonderful.
  it is some thing
of a    fantasy in
how She flows;

(so    non-linear
  (like her skirthem
is time
  (in a swift
   & graceful bow)))

She is static
     ,butmobile, &spinning
rain in Her hands;
   She is knitting droplets
        & folding waves ,

         knowing my
lips are soft,undefended
                .irarelylookup.
     yit She is there
  & there She always was

just in touching,grazing
at the edge of likelihood.
  Her name is Hope
and She is such
a spectacle.

matt r 5d

the world is a twogun saloon,and i,

(a hatless boy/a cowless gunslinger)
maroon about the ****** pond.
                           selfsuck-
kingly,
spurless boot drags nameless nothings
like a bridal train
                              (so promised You are)...
the dust lies though. perchance
                          the rockylike
grit in my throat has found the
                          perfect home

matt r May 8

You saw Me (just to see Me)

I think about Us &
its all so.red&raw.
tingling&electric.
its all so scarring
like finger tips My
skin,like water dips.

is it thereforYou,too
? You saw Me,today,
just to see Me,Ithink.
filmic,You said it was,
I think You missed Me.
I think You feelsmooth

& miss the spinal,shock
&sparking excitement.
it is something,magnet
ic,so     enticing that We
generate. see? it is that
I think this is under Us

,Our own fidelity. You told
Me,then,that  You loved him.
Take him & Go,ifso, but I do
not see aworldinthis oyster
shell. I think You see You
are making such a misstep.

if I am not over You,then
I am under You,&You,me.
I like to think You see my
poems. I like to think how
You want to tell Me You
see'em,& howYoulike'em

I like to think Id like You
in any dimension
                   ,Yknow?

i think there is Something here.
tell Me if you read this.
or dont.,if You dont think so.

matt r May 7

dried flower luck ii

(only eight weeks later)

re enveloped,(no)O(bow)
so folded hemispherically;

flaking, crumbing, Love.
it is bouyant in its optimism

& so flighty to jump the
next slated crosswind

to the 'zeroconnection
terminal'

in the next twin city. She is
insoluble in Me as in paper.

matt r May 7

the moon is a [redacted

brandofcheese]

if i walked it
,squirming,
between my
twofrontteeth

(it tastes of all
the dust ive
ever sprinkled)

id tell everyone
ive ever conned
into conversing
of my palmsize

astrono Me. lunar
Me. my ability
to string myself
up,iammobile

matt r May 7

in place like,a dusted moon

.nota.bene.
(it is filled with)
(jam & sugar )

beginning.
She tilts barefoot on
                                     eve of
                                     evening
,lilting,  a pacific hypo
       thetical excerpt on
"
why(iam)here &
what(wedo)next
"
end.
it is something
of a copper wire;
    vitality.         in
the longer you lap
your legs in its terra   cotta
                                       ,the more
                                        exacting
(stringentlysinuous)   the scar

.post.script.
a sense of
where i amnt
more than
i plant my
ankles like
two little
orange
trees.

matt r May 6

the streetlamp is blurry.

it has this      halic aura;
the vanity of an electric fence.
it has this vanity of cauze.

it is tall.          tall & nosy.
it is toes up nose in my window.
it is evaluating in its warmth.

so tuneless,     thankfully.
**** tasting & tuneless
& shining.    almost kingly,

Your bluriness.
You do not cast
          a shadow.