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matt r Dec 2024
people look so silly under the spell
of friday's grooving radio hum:
they trip and fall over miles of tiles
when gin tins leave their shoes untied;
its showtime under the ambergreen lights!

seven o'clock and motor breath
turns to head-seeking missiles, i duck
under a stop where frostbite seeks
to hide its fingers in my socks
"i'm not ready to end!"

"it hasn't yet begun!"
seven twenty and here's my bus!
a giant metal knight with wiper swords
and a two-door parting shield
... i check to see if my feet have healed

engines ruminate over their revolutions
and rumble and grumble on deaf ears
cautionary tales of last week's anteeks...
but not all roads lead to rome, fortunately,
some lead to queen's square

...at least my toes are warm now
matt r Jan 18
dear you,

as i left the cinema pondering loss and trying to tie it to a real anchorable place in the world i walked past a sign that read 'elizabeth banks street' or something. i wondered when it was last given a lick of paint because it was starting to show bare metal around the writing. i forgot about it as i rounded the corner.

the edible i ate before the film grew warm weeds in my bones as i passed a couple on a bench; they'd been there 90 minutes earlier on my way to the cinema. i wondered what they'd chatted about that was worth enduring the cold for. maybe it's like that when you find the one. i thought of the girl at work i have a crush on.

i moved towards the canal and as i counted all the missing cobblestones i danced over the song i was listening to began to swell slowly in my veins. i felt my steps get lighter and wore this unbelievable grin on my face. i thought of the guy i've always wanted to be and how i felt like i was becoming him. i thought of buying a home and owning books and records and how it felt like it was all going to happen. i really felt like i was in exactly the place i was supposed to be at that moment. it was a funny contrast to loss.

my old block of flats sat on the opposite side of the canal a little further down. i slowed a bit and thought of the man i was last year and how proud i am of him. i think i'm a more spiritual man now. i've learned to become a lot more present and appreciate what makes art so beautiful. there's a lived experience reflected in every piece, you see, whether you like it or not. that's what makes art subjective; some people see things they don't want to be reminded of.

so love and growth warmed my leather-laden feet as i turned the final corner into the alleyway opposite my flat. i thought of my new socks and the places they were gonna take me just as i saw a guy hop over a car park fence with a filled bin bag. i wondered if they were his clothes in the bag and if he'd been kicked out by a partner. maybe he'd stolen something. it could be one of a million things but it's another funny contrast to really hoist the moon over my evening. i suppose gain grows from loss like a parasite.

write soon
matt r Apr 1
dear you,

it'll probably take this a long long time to reach you but isn't that just the idea? nothing is consistent here - moments bend & weave so it feels like each blink takes a lifetime. yesterday a thought took four months to form and i almost used it without thinking.

i'm stretched out on the grass now & i'd love to explain how anyone meets anyone at all. is love some long blue thread bringing them together? i've seen what people do with it - sure they make it into something pretty but it isn't what it's there for.

i tried to explain a concept like us to a bumblebee but i didn't really get anywhere. i said "wouldn't you like something like a portal? you could be at the next flower before you know it." i said portal instead of a wormhole because i knew bees didn't understand physics but he buzzed off anyway. i suppose the fun might be in the looking & finding but i've been given flowers before & it sure as hell meant more than picking one myself. maybe he was just happy with what he'd already found.

now i see magpies everywhere but they can't all be you right? i've always thought they were but maybe i'm just too ******* in my long blue thread. i suppose that's human though - i've just always valued the idea of tying something tangible to a concept that isn't really bound by atoms. the idea that this is all meant to be, y'know?

if you look hard enough you'll see them everywhere. sometimes all it takes is one & the thought that everything has to mean something. that's it though - i guess if it were real then you'd be here by now. maybe if you wait long enough you'll miss your chance. maybe if i look long enough a magpie is just a magpie.

p.s.

on the walk here i crossed a bridge - it wasn't celestial or anything but it was high enough off the ground to wonder if i stepped off how much of a joke i could get out my mouth before i hit the clouds. i couldn't really shake that feeling of bending & weaving after that. funny isn't it.

write soon
matt r May 1
wave, to wonderful swirling
bluegreen cool

apex. acme. precipice of
Us; the cresting belief in
                         'We are to be'

rolls&folds me out
    to float - the polar verse
of promise in' shoes

so cymbal crash on back
of beat. the symphony aqua!
              acquiesce His sin

stroke the little seawater death.
all things in time return to wave.
matt r Jun 12
this love of fate is true

You, My chimera, were
          so woven into
      this rippling fabric
I wore as a man
  in love

& fate, She is more
than haute couture; She
   is a pair of jeans worn
,torn & patched up well.
         She is timeless in

living&walking, knowing
   I gave it all       to You.
My kizmit,   You gave Me
new    heartache, which
       I will plant, & reap

                            amor fati.
i've written a lot about love and fate. to me, they are two of life's surest things. they are everywhere & they are sweet. growth, another sure thing, is hard, but it's through growth that i have learned that i love You.

amor fati is a double-edged sword, though, so let love, fate & growth teach me that, although i love You, You are not mine to love. & that is okay.
matt r May 29
rollback,    the dim redness
(that you've been
                                 before)
is breaking over blackness
        ,       your outcrop spine.

realise      splitting starriness;
it is andromeda.            
           She is the most painful
constellation,a cluster hot
                     of nerve endings

relapsing,into dizzy relativity,
that you are (yet to
                                    become)
        still.
                i am all        but still,

everything is spinning
                               so perfectly.
matt r Apr 5
we love,
in spans of poetry
,the looseness of day
& settle intoer
counterpart
with open fingered
grace

waking brilliant light
 -not real yet-  but
no time away
from your flexing
chimera.               wake
,you,   new medusa
,aching & shallow

but love,
in spans of poetry
,the aching of day
matt r 2d
tonight, You glanced off
the wall like a suggestion;

just headlights, though. I
see You in everything.
matt r Feb 17
i'll caress a bullet with teeth
akimbo - to see your navel
skin,the moon a button eye.
matt r Apr 9
soundless scape
(take me to Her)
travel,traipse
cross starful terror
candescently sing
(one last goodbye)
She'll be thinking
Him, not Her&I
matt r Jun 3
wave,cresting
       ,only
      falling
       since,
it was always
  
new.
  Deep Blue,
i am unfound
in swimming
  You,

fingers,finding
   nothingbut
platonic
           seaweed,

feet,trying
     ,kickingthe
  crystal
                crust

of her,gorgeous,
dipping
         membrane.

Love, i just want
    to kiss You
          ,& i am so
turbulent in
             waiting,

   God.
matt r May 31
are like                the dirt
    to Me;
                   I will scrunch
You up                    & fold
You in between my toes

   walk around,hip sway
to the true beat of Love,,,

You,are like the dirt to me
matt r Jun 10
reflection spits
off the road
like venom

(all this happened
under slurred
red murmur        )
matt r Mar 12
she crumbled,
                                   out of
the envelope & into
                               my palm

  dissolved into my fingers
in her own world breaking
                                         way

in there,where two magpie
sit                      cross-legged,
the air carries kismet like a
newborn                     crying
    at the very semblance
of the long      walk     away.
matt r May 7
(only eight weeks later)

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

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

& kisses ideas      of sinking
Us,We are Love's ocean floor.
matt r May 22
(i miss the flowers)

  the rock you gave me
(/magpie/, so penguinly
                beautiful)
rolls around my sum
                -mertime fist;

it is old,has stories of Love,
& still,maybe,is volcanic on.
matt r Feb 26
the rain sways me like a
hymn - some freestyle
jazz drumming melody.
matt r Apr 11
litheness & long;
her legs entwined
in complication, &

is that not always how
it starts? hoisted less by
rope&more by shoulder

to a point of brilliant
vanity. me&she,the
ego mercenary,eyeing

applesweet, hands on
back & legs entwined
with legs. the excuse to lie

next to me,the instant kiss
& blood hot ***.the almost
going but definitely coming

to our static touchfelt senses.
the long way it's been since
then. the long wait til legs

entwine with legs again.
1 for 2023.
matt r Mar 25
full-hooded but
not               half
a gleam
        
         an "i know
                   &
                 you
                  don't"

isn't it mysery?
the knowing &
the knowing &
not even doing.

i know.. i should
  formulate
    something.
      really...    like

a song. but not
even the air
can formulate
something
quite so
romantic
enough,

try       write
nonsense like a
kiss.        take
each flavour
of each word
& press it
hard
       against
      ur cheek.

sap.up the warm
meaning like a
thirsty flower,you

blossom even
            if you want

i nor the midjune
would ever dare
to      comment.
matt r Jan 28
ive lost what made me special
the constant natter natter natt
the constant feeling that what

i have to say is somehow impo
(r)tent ive lost the annual flore
scence its all for show now its

all for you dont you see! to be
loved is to be changed i think ill
die now i flower in the daylight
matt r Jan 28
i can taste it like sand swilled
around my pillar teeth it hides
juuust behind my tongue u c?

do u c? look into my mouth
and ******* 7am breath c
the fact im no warmer than

a hot spring or kettle
im barely a man ach
ing like the fault line
matt r Jan 28
if i could brush the minutes
under the rug ohh trust me i
would build you a mountain

or a hill or a knoll or some
hole for a mole it depends
on when youre here come

i can feel red sky in my eyes
darling theyll only set to the
lullaby we sang then. bloom
matt r Mar 9
i think of your back

& mine, like the in
                              side
ofaspoon

oh yours!

not quite so concave
                             but
a soft&flexing blade

regaled with silver.
matt r Feb 17
the foxtail dropped like a heavy
eyelid - never has there been a
silver thread to tie it to the sky.
matt r 3d
water,sputtering pathetics
like     a godlost priest.

the cool stone floor
feel,on my floridmost cheek.
matt r 6d
I find Myself
  in Him, in the
    way I say
   "I like this."
I find Myself
         becoming
like the lapping
yearsome waves.

He is someone
    it's worth being,
My always there,
  My mate.    
                   & I
listen to His music
  & tap the way He
    always has.

it is something
     to find some
white on me; the
   firstly sign
of aging.       it is
something else
    to be Him,My
old man is here.
matt r Jun 7
"no overthinking",what about
       understanding
the echoing pines of this hill
                             side landing?

We are a picnic,My Love,of
flowers&leaves,,    We taste
of green heaven   through
    tongues   &   teeth;

it is always You,though,
       always the same
dream of Us,         in Love,      
         again & again

I am not overthinking,thinking
   of We,      I believe in
spring romance, in
              growing pinetrees

let us return to nature,    not
   think with Our head,  choose
Your heart,use Love,
come & lie      in the flowerbed
as We are in rhyming with the universe x
matt r May 16
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 Feb 24
my eyes are doughnut-holed;
rolled in fluorescent calflove
& eaten by the long walk there

to where she talks, florid
and smelling of sweetgrass,
of her lemon pancake fling.
matt r Mar 7
it's come
& never
left,

always right
beneath the
rough touch;

handfuls
of your
hipsful
& waistful
i hold you
& feel you
and you
feel me like
cigarette
burns.
i like my body when it is with your
matt r Apr 15
i am found in love with you

in constellations hot
likeawish,
        burning
        &cascading 'gainst
the outline of romance,

(stargazer,you

watch his arms hold her
& pushes her spine
into him
               contouring
swooning heart & bullet
breathing
                 'gainst her neck

take his eyes
                            as fireflies
in the humidity of dance
& come entangled in it)

realise the melting of day
& fade in,so take me. i am less
        than a galaxy away

& that is so why i love you
matt r Mar 16
[a one-time coin
                                in the pocket of]
the verb 'to be'

i could cycle through my zoetrope
life & grab the belly fat of fortune;

his lifepink scar
                            bleedinghardtruth
matt r May 3
this pissedup drawl of an evening
was    just that;
                       stumbling           through
                            time&nausea
as Someone,i could only cry.

high & notquite
                         dry,I
slipped into our music like silk
                                          in sleeves
& think about all the pretty notes i
left you.    think about your hand
                                         on my knee
                  (that one time,"accidentally")

so in sleep as life,
       in my dream i dreamt of kissing You.
in Your,flushing gleam, & weaving voice
i dreamt of Your dream,
               of how You
                   want me
                   holding You.
do you remember Your dream
the one          you told Me?
the one in which i held You?

do you remember your dream
& the             kismet of We?
the  wish that i would kiss You    x
matt r Feb 20
two maybe three times a day the
wave
crashes on the surfer but he's
ready
he's seen the tide he's breathed
it
he's drank it and got it all bubbled
up
in his stomach like me with two
feet
on dry land but at least he's in
halfpipe
dreamland dancing the earthtime
groove
at least he knows what he's in
for
i'll just slalom down this beach
in
my petty thematic way and i'll
kick
over the sandcastles in protest
of
this prima nocta glassdust.
matt r May 2
mind.          like a
      twirling,sweeping breeze,
We would be
    swanning up the coastline
    of some
         sweet&birdsung
                       place

(eating up candlelight,
    stalking halated joy,
walking the long walk,
talking of how We love)

if i could sway Your
mind.                 like a
             flowing wave dips
             the coral,
He would hold His luck
         like a clamshell,dashed
         upon His rocks of fault
& left to saltly dissolve in sea

(Pearlescently, You
may roll around my
fingers.  come alive
under my jolting/
                   lectric
touch & realise my
riveting certainty)

if i could sway Your
mind.       like a
    flourished page turning,
         You would read more
    than
just the words I write

(lungfuls of effervescent love,
exhale,eye it melt across the sky
& drip down Your shoulders,
play the magpies kizmit tune)

if I could sway Your
mind like a tree,
You would fall into love
                                   &Me
matt r Jun 13
i finally saw two magpies
for the first time
                   since february
(they were resting on
                         a signpost
then, it was valentine's day)

i wrote 'happy valentine's j x'
     & imagined you florid
(it was calflove&sweet
       & it only grew stronger)

letters, dried flowers, poems
          i wrote for You
(We were kizmit,to be,
           i always wanted You)

i gave You everything i had
   ,all but kissing sense,
(i wish i did, your lips
    were all love ever meant)

i finally saw two magpies
  You have a love, i don't,
but i have finally seen joy
        & You will see me float
matt r May 4
the smelting eye
   of the pale morning
would close in a
   smile;inhale
the daylight between
     each fighting giggle

embrace the caring air
        of reading! take note
  of each of my bleeding
words & palate them
to taste      the true meaning
   of how i love You

every letter belongs,is Yours.
every poem i have
                 laid down to rest
is Yours&Yours forever;
   if only (the sky still glows)
               (You still read them)
matt r May 2
of Me, i hope
    the sagging moon
         & her tired hands
   fall on Your shoulders
to wash in how I see You

i hope
  the delicate dried
           flower
     & her springly laugh
  realises You love Me

i hope
    the singing magpie
& his warbling tone
     echoes the songs
  in which I played You

i think
     i hope You hope
           i Am
matt r Mar 23
(i feel aqua

/cola

dragged up
by a heavy
stomach
of bubbles)

the in-
tuneness
has always
been new

but here

she is
in her
drowning
way

spinning
me in a
centrifuge
of lipping
waves &
whirlpools
matt r May 7
.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
 where
i plant my
ankles like
two little
orange
trees.
matt r Apr 4
in square retaliation;
the sunhot riot against
repose!
men draft their perfect
                         manifestos
to platonic jeers & "i know
& yes buts-"
                       seething melt
         ed jaws clenched shut.

more stop, there's more than
quiet anger. there's chatters
natters  less tireless flattering
words; true joy is bred
                  here on tarmac beds...

bell boys & horn heads & maraca
shoe sole songs,     carabiner cords
& their unknown composers jangle
walk the way to fame! let but spoken
time unravel her silent duskful flame

in square retaliation,
riot the moon reclaim.
a 5 minute one
, set all too soon
matt r May 4
is a slender beauty. the
    sideways stance of
'i hope it does not
                     touch me'
(it does,though). love,
with its perfect
               nail beds &
finger knuckles.
   She will reach you
      all the same.

there is a fatness to it,
too;    
    a lying roundness
who wills She/will not cut
you. She is scarletred &
  lives in you;She is
  who you call 'living'.

reservoiry in its
volume,
               fill my lungs
time&time over. fill
  every saucer,gilded
&unstolen, replace my
air with it. She does
   not breath colourless,
but has the flow
                  of water.

in the word,'love' is
the recurring curl of
love,
&love
&love
again.
            She is the end
             & everywhere,
if i could only see Her.
matt r Mar 6
ont blistered walk
aroundt couple

who stood on folds
of nekked geese:

"why oh why wings ???"

let em grow hooks
to throw at trambacks

& ride long past
the cryptid men

who hop

skip

& step

on dirtichor landmines.
make up.
matt r Apr 23
the un bridled un
                         buttoning
  of sense
               ...
                (          a     pointless,whipping
                                             towel of wind)
                                                        ...­
& the sylphic roots
           ,whom in their
fishbowl head.
      their endless lung

                       un dressed You
         ....
                               (static RINGing
                                electric moan)
                                          ...
& Your greenhillmounds
                 trembled
          greener,became
...
(this              wracked                 incessant
          waltzing whistle.    )
                                                ...­
                       a poolofpunch. the
                       cellulose We once dug
                       our fleshly little Thumbs into
                ...
                   (a two-hundred mile
                                      rockfall splash)
                                                         ...
                       stained like
                        the idea of heaven

  &myshirttoo                             deliquesced
     diffused                               &liquified
  
We covered              Our Earthly Body
                 in organic spilling mess &
drank

(ffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff­)

                 Us                        like we ******.
matt r Mar 16
the soft curve of chance
                              could not bite me

(though sometimes i wish it would)

but fashion a path
                   that takes me to heaven



almost skyward - you
                                      yet equally so
                                             armward

draped head in gold&sunlight with
your planetary blaze

maybe less avessel for life but more
                                           incendiary

electric,plasmic & so not crystalline
despite your form,inspiteof how you
shimmer & dance & fadein&out of it



you are the future i see when i sleep
my temple to your hip

it is my temple;

your hip
matt r Feb 14
did you see the magpies
resting on the signpost?
they talk about twin cities
chatting through cupphones;
a high-wire walk with love
heart knots to kiss our heels.
happy valentines j x
matt r May 22
step into a name
like Urs           leaves
my feet so pale&dusty

;;;not for lack of
richness     ,,,no!

        U
        hang
        like
        a
        tho­ught
        bubble

under moon (& her
             gracious mind)
,   a real.tangible.place
&         so        are         U

    We could live in
           la mestra
(how ever U would like
           to spell it...)
Urs  is  the  only  name
     that            matters
             to   me
matt r Dec 2024
shrug the armistice from your
shoulders you little teapot you
brew peppermint rain in vain

in doors we dance like monets
girls i saw you tiptoe into glass
like a still pool of stomach acid

we talk of throwing music out
the window would it be littrin
to play o-love-me-love-me-not?
matt r Oct 2024
seconds drag; their limbs
line the hallways while we sleep:
yesterday's awake
matt r 6d
listen,                 ###
listen     to the slow
    g  ro   w i  n g
cacophony,the whip
-pppping crescendo
& come alive in it.
roll up(so tidally)
&rave like the brea
-king waves. break
your spine on the
rockiness & learn
to swim once more,
learn to ebb& learn
to flow, to warp as
she does &    hold
fast    as she has.

i do not mind the
wind,  it is making
waves & i will float.
i do not mind, carry
tunes of hummmmm
-ing birds to live for,
hummingbirds to sea.
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