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PK Wakefield Feb 2012
when greener sits atop me earth
astride the human rind practically
eatage thrusted blueward hair
i'll innumerably chant life from
desiccated lips i'll sing life and
i'll say a whole ocean of upon
grass will lovers make dew
which (like me shall) make again
a body of beating and bragging
under stars and over me shall
make the feet of those miraculous
youth drunk kissers and i won't
be dead i'll be in every mouth
parted love hew imbued each other
like i did with you one summer ago
in sweetest juice of night honeying
every limb in suppler moonest light
PK Wakefield Feb 2012
it's naked how in June
(hot uncluttered flesh)
by lips and parting

                                    do caress

with careful splitting
and agile mess
unsaintly contents

                       ,             wriggling
  ,       spilled adolescent
bodies filled
              in eager sating
                            days were killed
                  and the arcuate pleasure of
           thighs and *******
       tongues between
     cotton dress
    spiced and
   folding
  ******* fret
  at mangled balling
  upon lewd dashboard kept
PK Wakefield Feb 2012
soAndso with yesterday went
down to Emerald and spit
went down to see the particular
jeer of howsome comely girl
things parading elephantine

the promise of whose wet
unwinter's courser hairless
majesties
                 in february even
call stupider the boy war
cringing aggressive sound

i thoughtlessly and also
going weren't less than
a toy but to their agreeable
*** flung shivers and
dainty pinks atoped
with tighter neon growling
articles

              (so i've felt like (with full and engorged membranous) never less a fool
               than when a shortly cropped fairy haired tousled perfectly bob
               slipping me her number snugly in my hands i called her 3 times
               without an answer)
PK Wakefield Feb 2012
with love often
i am more than
with you
more than nearly
love i'm only
more devoted
than to you
even i'm with
only love
PK Wakefield Feb 2012
it's hard
being yourself
really
          yourself
the whole
ugly perfect
thing it's
tough and
garbled and
it's hard
looking right
into the eyes
of those who
know you
and, being
yourself,

being
PK Wakefield Feb 2012
what if i destroy you
what if i put you between heaven
and hurting
what if i love you
what if you find me dreaming
some morning and lushly
fold me in your crispest singe

                ?
PK Wakefield Feb 2012
just i

     opening

            my soul
                          
                     oD
                        and
          drawtuo
                        fumbles
                emos
                        unbright
ecnecsednacni
                             some
                                       fuckhot

                                                    magic
                                                                 peeling
                                                                                out
                                                                                        the innumerable
                                                                                                                      jeer
                                                                                                                             of my
                                                                                                                                         and me
                                                                                                                                                        deepest
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