a connotation of infinity
sharpens the temporal splendor of this night

when souls which have forgot frivolity
in lowliness,noting the fatal flight
of worlds whereto this earth’s a hurled dream

down eager avenues of lifelessness

consider for how much themselves shall gleam,
in the poised radiance of perpetualness.
When what’s in velvet beyond doomed thought

is like a woman amorous to be known;
and man,whose here is alway worse than naught,
feels the tremendous yonder for his own—

on such a night the sea through her blind miles

of crumbling silence seriously smiles

there is fire licking at your
      calves. tongue hot
      and heavy (taste me
      where my soul ends and
      my heart begins, i think
      you tell me. find the places
      hidden to even my eyes,
      a prayer, a whisper).

-

AFTERTHOUGHT: i can shift the heft of the sky and its sire onto my shoulders, shape them into wings under your gaze, let them watch the fire like you watch a ritual (it burns with ancient fury, older than my words could ever dream).

my body, once again, got in the way

of all the softness i can hold in my hands
this is what i seek the most

height, broken neck
i want to hit the water and be embraced
by all the cold, the harmful liquid
damage me more so i can't look at the mirror anymore

my body. it got in the way

of all the softness that i can hold in my hands
won't you stop by and say hi sometime?

this is worthless, for me to leave
i don't cut my hair, nothing has changed

i've been longing for the moment that i'm
finally neutralized

drink me like milk, i want to flow
through your tunnels
warm, smooth, and fatty
i want to find what's on the other side

i held my breath, but it's pointless
no one cares if i'm breathing anyway
see my body once again it got in the way

come, all the softness that i can hold in my hands
come, my forlorn hosanna
come to my throat and i'll drink you like milk

A ring of gold and a milk-white dove
Are goodly gifts for thee,
And a hempen rope for your own love
To hang upon a tree.

For you a House of Ivory,
(Roses are white in the rose-bower)!
A narrow bed for me to lie,
(White, O white, is the hemlock flower)!

Myrtle and jessamine for you,
(O the red rose is fair to see)!
For me the cypress and the rue,
(Finest of all is rosemary)!

For you three lovers of your hand,
(Green grass where a man lies dead)!
For me three paces on the sand,
(Plant lilies at my head)!

Tread lightly, she is near
Under the snow,
Speak gently, she can hear
The daisies grow.

All her bright golden hair
Tarnished with rust,
She that was young and fair
Fallen to dust.

Lily-like, white as snow,
She hardly knew
She was a woman, so
Sweetly she grew.

Coffin-board, heavy stone,
Lie on her breast,
I vex my heart alone,
She is at rest.

Peace, Peace, she cannot hear
Lyre or sonnet,
All my life’s buried here,
Heap earth upon it.

the rose
is dying the
lips of an old man ******

the petals
hush

mysteriously invisible mourners move
with prose faces and sobbing,garments
The symbol of the rose

motionless
with grieving feet and
wings
mounts

against the margins of steep song
a stallion swetneess    ,the

lips of an old man ******
the petals.

ignore all possible concepts and possibilities ---
ignore Beethoven, the spider, the damnation of Faust ---
just make it, babe, make it:
a house  a car   a belly full of beans
pay your taxes
****
and if you can't ****
copulate.
make money but don't work too
hard --- make somebody else pay to
make it --- and
don't smoke too much but drink enough to
relax, and
stay off the streets
wipe your *** real good
use a lot of toilet paper
it's bad manners to let people know you **** or
could smell like it
if you weren't
careful