seems there may be some connection
some call it a trigger.


some things leave us cold and wondering

the wind is doing it’s wind thing again
you know - whipping hard
howlin out there

lights flickering .
trash bins groaning out back with their baritone wheels .
windows rattling like kneecaps in a traditional story about skeletons .
the legacy of human detritus at various points in history careening down the road with projectile malice [hunting car mirrors to knock right the ******* .]



the bathroom door slams shut,
like a war-drum

doom-a-room-pa-toom-doom-doom-doom




all the good stuff

very on brand

who knows if the moon’s
a baloon,coming out of a keen city
in the sky—filled with pretty people?
(and if you and i should

get into it,if they
should take me and take you into their baloon,
why then
we’d go up higher with all the pretty people

than houses and steeples and clouds:
go sailing
away and away sailing into a keen
city which nobody’s ever visited,where

always
            it’s
                   Spring)and everyone’s
in love and flowers pick themselves

Before the sun rises
I will step outside to
drink my tea with the
jasmine and the rose
I will listen to the moon
tell its stories of
far away cities
and how it looks more
beautiful in the desert
I will reconstruct this
collision of thoughts
into something that
resembles poetry
I will conclude with
a sigh and a whisper
I am nothing but dust
in the company of nature …
Clay.M

He tried to spit out the truth;
Dry-mouthed at first,
He drooled and slobbered in the end;
Truth dribbling his chin.

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

i will wade out
                        till my thighs are steeped in burning flowers
I will take the sun in my mouth
and leap into the ripe air
                                       Alive
                                                 with closed eyes
to dash against darkness
                                       in the sleeping curves of my body
Shall enter fingers of smooth mastery
with chasteness of sea-girls
                                            Will i complete the mystery
                                            of my flesh
I will rise
               After a thousand years
lipping
flowers
             And set my teeth in the silver of the moon

i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite new a thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body.  i like what it does,
i like its hows.  i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones,and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
i like, slowly stroking the,shocking fuzz
of your electric furr,and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh….And eyes big love-crumbs,

and possibly i like the thrill

of under me you so quite new

i am always in the trees
and the sky that you see
or the flavors that touch your mouth

there's nothing that can be done about it