Raw
Flesh collision
Hews the body
Lilliputian flecks coalesce
Dust motes cling
In dilapidated spheres
Dawn’s menagerie
Enunciating their form
In blatant form and elongated shadow

His mate snapped a picture.

I posit
He had turned up evidence
For kind sight.
As the young child curled
Index and ******* into
The Cupped hand of
Slack-jawed wanderer;
Whispering
“The coffin is to remind them of their last end.”

He was astonished
To find the monks never
Spoke, rising at two,
and slept
in their coffins.

How bracing the air was
Down there.
I speculate
He had turned up
Evidence for
Kind sight.

We live from eight inches
Of top soil –
Containing  
Earthworms,
Bacteria,
Fungi.
Lillipution lingerings
Cling  
Within the gentle folds
Of carrot contorting beneath, with
probing tree roots.
As above –
Grasshopper carapace – hemolymph drunk  
Probing dew-imbibed grass blade.

Life goes on,
Rhythmically and quietly
Pulsating
With the warmth of hugs
Humming  - chest against chest.

In their coffins
I muse – they listen to the pulsing chamber
Echoing –
Breath drunk  - on inhale
Resonating about and within
Wooden niche.

A barrier built between
Ourselves and
The principle of darkness.
The letters
in which we write about the aphotic night
sky need not be black.

In sandalwood grove
I learned the echo of water to your form
My hands cupping clay-stained water
And smearing the settling sediments
About your prone frame

I kissed resin from between your knees
And beckoned hippo’s bray in dusks heat
Tangerine rinds cusp dipped dew between
Your collar and my own
As I newly learned the friction of water about my body
Sinking headily into tones of each other’s woods

Collective heart
Aspirations lifted
Absolute focus
History beckons
Emotional spectacle
Capture supremacy
Winter will not be a burden
But a curtain raised by spirit

His arm’s with anger
and suddenly bending to the child’s face he shouted:
“People don’t think caterpillars are a different species from the moths they become.”

The four vocabularies of obscenity vomited
in a silence.
He was identified.
A silence that merely emphasized
the hideousness of that which interrupted it.

All the elation of anger and hatred,
all the distracting excitement,
died away, and -
he was left with nothing
but the naked,
negative experience
of revulsion.

They may have gained
a deeper sense of what is
relative
and
what is universal;
aware,
of what may be global themes
while also having discerned
what could only be produced
in one particular language.

If human-kind perceptions are
always under revision,
responding to our shifting circumstances –
with ever-changing answer to
ever-changing questions - posed
by life –
then they won’t be permanent.

I tend
Like ambling child
To erector construction
Jamming thought in quip
Undoing linguistically threaded intersection
Hopefully without catch

I cogitate
I need supervision
Or I might gobble up the apparatus
Choking on a plastic word

I fold in on myself
Like the wadded origami designs I could never fold quite right
Layer upon intricate layer, receding
Into a crumpled relic sheathed in dust patina
Taking up space, a relic to my past

I surrender to your guiding hands
As you carefully unfold and gently press my form
Unfolding myself to you
The desire for new edges
Shapes us –
Convening at the crux
Our vertices press into transformations
And I fold into you, unfurling concurrently.

Before mere precepts of the sweat eluding your pore against my form
Before the head nestled into muffled coo edging into my clavicle
Before DNA coalesced into synapse erupting the lattice of your brain

I kissed you with your eyes closed for the first time yesterday
You are not one to kiss with your eyes closed - even when we are in darkness and eyesight becomes a temporary superfluous sense
It was in the shower
You were sitting in there until the hot water ran no more about your frame
I tipped my head to yours and we dipped further into the stream of water - catching breaths only as the droplets formed a redirected stream on the planes of our cheek bones.

To the wild woods
cut between sloped peaks
follow my trail of milky quartz pebbles
to the waterfall pool
leave your clothes just beyond the shores farthest ripple
and wade behind the tempest curtain

in the aphotic
soft ***** hair touches my cheek
tracing thigh inlet with my nose
I draw my hand up the back of your inner calf
listlessly charged
my finger edge turns to pad
fingerprint friction ablaze against your chassis
puckering in want

I’ll drift into waters warmth,
pretend it is same heat as your hands
then, crank up the heat
and scald my flesh into the same burning regret

Life's holy contour bucks my hips tonight
Endeavor and entreat your entire form to my person – if only for a lock of muted lip
Remove itinerary – my gift will drift your person into unpunctual realms
Your crazy dumbsaint and muse

I saw blood clearly
it was congealing
it turned and fused to the concrete densely

I saw its smear the next day
I heard someone had slid into the puddle
Face first
Turns out this sidewalk was a slip-n-slide
I felt glad to have contributed

I know all the notes of your voice,
All of the muscled tones and shifts
Which compose the ballads of your
Invocations of my form – both near
And through device.

I know
All the strength, flex, and power
Of your heart, and the way
Your being charges the space
Around
I know the chords
Plucked within me, and my breath
Caught taut on hearts pause that
Vacillates summoning plunges
And a vast heave
Of the fleshed lung.

We sat together, dew seeping into our pants

      Or rather, I did, with my cellphone, at a boundless distance from you

Waiting for each other to indulge in the known conversation we were to have

      Or rather, I was, and I’d finished the conversation already in my head

The constellations conceded as gilded witness

      Or rather, it was streetlights

As I delved into uncertainty

your acumen in ripping my clothes off
your exhale
executed succinctly in shallow lung
puckered alveoli - clenched
resonates as my own

It is responsible
for constant movement coordination,
maintaining a continuous,
cumulative picture
of body position
in space
storing movement memory.
But if the mind makes categories
to answer
needs of moment,
then we should not
be surprised
that those categories can be cancelled.
Dense and opaque, and
transformed - into
clarity that we recognize
the substance of glass
only by the introduction of heat.

He was convinced art would divulge darkness from him that no one could handle
In keeping his darkness, he lost me
Perhaps he thought he would lose himself if he let someone else have it?
A diagnosis is poison – it’s finite when finite does not exist.
It’s a cancer patient thinking there is only one answer, not seeking other answers.
It’s a phobia of negligible ratio that someone else likely made up.

He was trying to be perfect –
Scripting a persona to which no other was privy
I wanted his grit – the raw effulgent
I wanted him more than he wanted himself

The prescriptions knew him better than himself –
He readily swallowed the silica coated hurdle
Prolonging acceptance – exploration
Indemnified by a system seeking newspapers
Draped over ***** puddles

A moment's acquaintance with the scintilla convenes as a gallant trail blaze through a dilation of the universe.
A dismantling into compulsion and magnetics.

Hollowed echo of blue-tongued screen
Blushing grin behooving trance
Transcendental cusp of ponderings
Lingering in collaborative sweat-knit
And swollen dendritic emanations

My transient echo
Seething with energy some
Or none or any at all
Except the one
Quanta that renders
Me real and
Not.

I love singular word responses -
they are like the blight that pushes
us further apart

In touchless departures
heart mottled by one-word bullets-
no need to bandage yet - more
wounds are to be incurred

You suffuse my mastered ornate filigree
Ebbing the flux I have transfixed upon my cage
Constructed in despair, I’ve grown tired of my thoughts
Mind in lattice lain weak, of tainted wrought configurations
Conceding to effulgent creation from destruction
I pry from within, as you from without

I fall in love with facets, and the degrees and extents to which things circumnavigate about individuals, experiences, and those betwixt and be beyond either. My love for everything and everyone develops about these multi-faceted musings evoked in atomic and energy form about and within myself. Thank YOU for being you, especially the raw things beyond your control - I appreciate you not burnishing your edges/grit.

Silent tokens passed between us
Rondures to fill the hand
When our own could not

Encouragement  inked into flesh
Pungent crisp orange oil mist
Inoculating heady aroma to memory

We both devoured them
The juice running down your face
Was my own

You’ve discovered that the forces of gravity are enormous
But to explain why they are not, physicists needed a new theory
A new vision of the atom
Constant overlapping and splitting through time
Transactional existence
What might have been an abstraction
Remains a perpetual possibility

You are the subtle, humbled coalescing of honesty
Enigma with no undertaking to divulge process, purpose
Merely appreciation

Popular
Radio, TV, and Internet
Rap
Recordings of
Religious
Responding’s to
Right and left hemispheres of brain with
Rituals of
Rock and roll.
Myths regarding
The role of
Silence and the
Western classical
World.

Jazz echoes about the rondures of the cavern
The surface air pulses past cool, as my blood warms
I’m being led by a curious young man I’ve been writing
The bevy of picture-postcards enchanting my whims

I pad barefoot into a waterfall basin
Lit only by the muted tangerine rind of gas lamp,
shedding garment and silhouette to wet rock,
his breath amplifies across my form, as wet ink soaking into page
swimming in a restless descent, and forgotten edges

his fingers sprawl as ferns about my form in a glen,
tucking about my frame, and
dipping me comfortably further into the mud
he’s pressing my form into the pulp of the cave
scrawling ephemeral post-cards with my frame

We echo the chaos portrait,
a dictum of quantum entanglement
Pervading into the breadth of dynamic space
Fingers and hard planes
Lips stained with stardust,
Of where our vertices convene

The trees thrashed in concurrent wind
Bolstering a growing hum
Akin to mine own

I’ve yet to know a simple “hello”
Each exhale coalesces into a vast universe potentially forming
Myself, and the other dissipate