of Cherries,



                 "OUCH"


down'er pants firm notched reeking
stiffly *****


                         cherries

red cute slippery fumbles fingers over and

down'er pants

jeers clean shaven a howling gypsy split
from its lips to its lips
Wearing a manicured crown (strip cut square)
notched tingling
its

face


is

thinks i to be dust is nicer than
without flesh without your flesh

skin and skin
increase

(The big moon was large overhead cross legged
sitting in balmy press of summer's flower stars
unrapdily tiny glittering from nowhere teeth as
white peaked between lips quickly stealing away
your smell is still in my sheets your blood is still
there where you stained them hard by a pressing
needles "ouch" you said i thought it was pretty
and from between your thighs crept a burst of
crimson fresh and stinking of copper in a small
hot room i had too much to eat please don't be
mad at me i'm sorry about what i said my fingers
banded in the rolling blades of amber exactly
street lights rolling over them amber not amber
amber street lights through the wind shield

        you were sleeping coyly nothing                 )

to be dust is nicer

i think

to count you amongst numberless heavings
(smally colliding) of human voice thousands
screaming all dimly numb voices into dumb
voices numbly dimming(stars like innumerably
dying flicker less fast into darkness but still do)

would be a lie more truthful than living is truth

for though dying flicker: you burn

(and i whisper into you a very tiny spark;love
which ekes through your cheeks black wine
freshly distilled instantly drunken beautiful;flesh)

hanging on a petal of deeply sepaled night
(pearling dew) a sigh escapes across fields
of mute flowers up tumbling mountains reaches
stupid immortal silence and fear nothing hands
for falling though stars, silence, mountains, muted flowers, human voices:


YOU

not as like,thoughlike,a little more easily nothing flake
crisply hurts on each carefully florid cheek brittle melting

                   likeyou
  

                                          likeyouth

brittle melting carefully on the florid cheek crisply hurts

fingers hurt

lips hurt

tips and tips
tips and tips

like,thoughnotaslike, youth: an easily nothing flake, on the the florid cheek









                                                                                              melts

come into me
i would know you
i would feel you in my hands

speak not a word
i need no lips for you
nor eyes
nor shoulders
nor blood of heart

come into me
come in to me

come in

to me

my hands are warm
my bones are firm

where my feet are grows flowers
where my fingers, grows light

they tread in the quietest of forests
they have split the rind of the earth

in it, they pressed a seed with each step
in it, they have sown a breath

i have cupped my hands about the hot, rough blood of the earth
and i have taken it in to me

come in to me
i would know you as i know myself
i would hold you in the span of my breast
i would shield you from a blade
i would meet the blow of a fist

come in to me
do not hold at the edge of darkness
do not waiver in thy step
do not balk or quiver

come into me
i know not a thing
i know not a whisper

please

please

come in to me

ilike a littlefatsloppyugly, which about
tightness is folded cellulite, stretch marks
and screaming neon in flats (fingernails)
very short barely hair that almost doesn't
(still that easy clutched nicely pulls back

                violent feminine oral
                                                       )

head arched neck back choking *** tanned
just a bit like rolling thunders spilling tenderly
split thighs like ******* spit ache very slowly
break

                           (in my hands)

a finger knuckle deep


                                             (SuK)

stoked lightening, does where your fur stroked unmeeting skin
a ribbon grow heating wetly (at fingers tightly coiling sin)?
does where from stocky steam ****** ***** effuse drunk blood,
a stagger of giggling ****** giddily unstoppably bud?
perhaps, or, does (i know) your unknowing skirt a mutter
a rill of sweetness (acrid) as like honey and butter?

A query, i think, your parting question answers.
At cherry pressing; at crimson lancer.