if i seem strange forgive me
it's just that i sometimes know
the littlest secrets of the hiddens
and of magic
                            and blood

that hides in flowers
                                          but at

night comes out like a song
and is fair and ugly but not mean
and has the body of the nicest girl
that you would want to kiss
but will never let you
because even though she's not
mean
            but nice

instead, but she'll never let you
kiss her because she's coy
with cherry red lipstick and
a smart haircut

                               so

please forgive me if i seem
a bit strange because really
i'm sorry
                  if it bothers you

.                                                     I
                                                     at
                                                    The
                                                   sharpest
                                                  new
                                                     clean
                                                 blade
                                                of
                                                    dawn
                                               which performs
                                              the colour
                                             of life
                                                        in
                                           A curving sheet
                                          of condensed
                                         flowers
                                                      am lifted
                                        impractically
                                       petal
                                      upon petal
                                                to
                                    the breathless coronet
                                                     of
                                  unspeakable
                                 love

there was unfat, a face with a grin, that wears a body
like a man without hope next to the grocers yesterday
skin and bones, a face that wears a man like a body
without food, veins clearly and muscles also, from a
body with a face that wears a man without hope or
food

              but grins

unnicest winter die please cold
and let Spring unlaboured
                          unclosed Spring come

please, winter dying, that for you
coats and hats
tightly of bodies worn
from the slick ice
thinly which veils
the limbs of trees, naked, save for
thy

i have a vision. of something a little bit infinitely beautiful. inside me a bit.

something, a bit, that's perfect and hurts.

with bruises. or cuts (thousands of them.)

and i will tell it you.

if you want

the quiet always

of death

who leans into us a

          bit more
          each day and
          who's
          ivory
          stillness
                        creeps

death
          who steals

           crisp young

                     petals

                     from

                      inMay

                      trees


death
                      whose
                      leagues
                      upon miles
                      upon fathoms
                      of dreamless
                      shuteyes
                      strengthless
                      and wilts
                      mutest
                      uncolour

                      shall filch
                      meoryou
                      to soon from the other
                      's, unyouthing
                       also, arms

                                                but death never
                                                will conquer
                                                the svelte
                                                instant of your smile
                                                or the unlank verdance
                                                of their
                                                snarling crimson
                                                imping
                                                with my lips
                                                soundless
                                                legions of
                                                eternal
                                                SUMMER

at that your, unstartled completely, without
hesitation because hips
                                          (an electric fire; inside me)


                       SPRings

to my lips
that fleetly depart
my face to be
where they are longing
to incise
the placid unhaired
of your

                             between thighs
                             velvet forever
                             notch