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PK Wakefield May 2012
at a turn down slopes into
slender night
                          a path

i know through a forest
where, lovely, though
and dark and deep

but for promises to keep
i shall not sleep
PK Wakefield May 2012
big, pale, spider wrist a
with an old man onit
who in its legs lays
a notlikeoldmen
young girl (5maybe6or) 's

hand, which he tells, "dear,"
about how, "when I was a
younger man, and the world
a bit slower, pirouetted, a fraction
of youth whitely
with me                            and dear
someday
                  you'll

be someone's wife. who'll love you
and dear, you will be beautiful
when I, like now, your hand in my hand,

shall                       walk

you to him down between the real
prettiest fountain of petals
from your family cast
by hands that bore you
to this moment and pass you
into his
                 .dear, I on that day, will cry

                     and laugh."
PK Wakefield May 2012
neatly performed life
between a girls thighs

             a boy

i knew last summer

                who

loved a fairy with
a piece of steel in her
nose
            got

caught in the cut
of her
downy sable
and

            gentle

sweep of eyes
where crispest jade
spent a rounded chip
of beautiful
                         pain
PK Wakefield May 2012
frail i, in moonlight shall, march
up wisp of spring
into gabled spilt
juice
of curving dawn

orange
whose rind
like the human also
drys

           withers

                            sloughs
PK Wakefield May 2012
does swoon?O river you
nimble
                 wet

and completely
                             tongue

pink
            underwear
            (underwhere?)
              Underthere
              
                  splitfoiled
                          tousledskirt
PK Wakefield May 2012
hurts with a sugar,mouth,and moon
under who
a little creeps
girls with fire like skin
and bodies (oh and what)
girls with
                    electric

felt in their shook full
hips

            where lays

                        everyboy
PK Wakefield May 2012
i never was a star
nor fell
nor in your eye
did a glimmer of me
gleam
               yet

i loved thee
O and how i did
i loved thee so
like because April rain

loves the skin of just flowers
hardly stems
with green and aching verdant
murdered night

where supremely reigns the
coy hush of shook heavens
purpled tears

O i, who loved you, did
like that improbably
like
next to a river
where you sat
wide perfect nose
bent 'pon the distillation
of a rose

who like you
beautiful
crimson lipped
bore a snare
on which wells
the split flesh of my palm
also

              crimson rain
oops
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