Something will be found which they cannot express.

The crowd in your white lace dress!!

Your mind thorougly smug
Beneath your wet hairs

A kitten of our love

Oh yea it is shadowed green half way

Round a billion christmas trees
White washed with star bleach!

An evning in a wall frozen like apples...

I felt spiders, lime water poising my skin
like Hiroshima,
                                The falling iguanas (fake)
I lied.

Nothing from south america becomes sand like japanese papers.  Another great poem ******!
                                    (2)

     On the airof this busy pitty progress- I squeal electric darkness.
    May i feel
May i feel

May i feel your divine maze of unsucess?

In desserts very clean.    Thefront yard decided much so or pain.  

The street light in desperation was postphoned with recent tears

With recent tears,  thick syrup,  over winter honey.

Seattle dusk is turned to grand piano keys

With goods.          Pages of grim dead fish

Just **** money out of delicate breeding!

She blushes like a ruby chinook!

Now i have picked where to carve
Her unwrapped layers.

Beautiful things are softer then thin clear bones.  

I know the dead are haphazards.

But im not much from another river.

I have ran over lastyears broken tides with snow bringing the scent of melted cheese.

And life is over

But often times with voice there is so much more.

Unreal crys,  richly pay,half a block, red rosy eyes in the haze.

At last im getting a sweet pool of glaciar water- a sweet place to **** out my twisting invention. An excrement i started, imagination from my impulsive instinct.

The world believes Mr. Best
If you want to know
He leads the town

Does he?

Its what im telling you

Tame essence
                                 Pretty country folk
His best bed

Coat of clear / holy roman mix ups.
****** shame that any son should foil
And
Ask on his fantastical fat-thick shoes.

(Advice to those kids who insist
On getting even with Mr Best)


Chip us all the old bricks of shattered
Glass domes.
White and red.         Curled acording to
Their litness
                          
Woa sonny!

                   Dont raise the wind in your
Arm!
       B.  Stay peace full...
Give it your Best shot.

The golden lemons
Go by.  

A jet of fire we cant
Catch.

I work to win and take the ravens flight
And go because I think I know im rite.
We take off from problems and touch another place.  I left the soil, I can spring away from there.  The open egg grows to leap away from safty.  I work to win and take the ravens flight and go because I think I know whats rite.  Its about time to steal the open breath, so make a mess and work to win the ravens flight.  And go because we know whats rite.  So trust the dive and feel your flight.  Theres no leap thats touper.

My fathers room explodes with encores and cheers for him to keep on playing:  a lady in the croud raises her rite hand as he sings
"Baby i still want to know if you need me".
My mothers ready to drag him out and spill his teeth over the back alley:  you ******* i knew you were an ***, your an ***, an ***.  
He sings again to the croud:  "Its my day for the whiskey". "its day for the whiskey".  
"Baby please understand me".

I want to know the blidness that kept his hands sliding and moving as if two scences were bundled and expelled from the already darkening white shade, pearling infront of his paintngs, There he found the secrets of golden asps and seductive tones
that manipulated Antonys weakness for powerful women.  But now the blank verses  of god and poet live to the imposible idea of finding secrecy and sharing the myth that his scribe would have to live with.  The hardest process of sinking your open thoughts in hot salt.  The painful scars of reliving and redoing to go out into the night hoping it wasnt your last.

The dwares caressly flew out like bats
itching to just get a chance