the she raw is beautiful because
because short
(eyes green ) hair the

lips by

sing easily with neatness
and her mouth is

where exactly it might appear obscenely wonderful
to push my mouth

which i also like would
my own to raw she become
into a singe of crisp love
together as like a sprig in Spring
blossoms such uncaving of coloures

but sharp too
as a rose might wear
the coloures are

for parting of skin
between rib and breast
where a heart lies

wanting to fold
folding of want
of raw she

who beautiful because is

there is the world so much i think i have felt it

have felt by it
and by it felt

so much it
(the world)

who in droves presses ugly Spring against me
who in heards comes dying and immortal
who in sleeping flowers laughs most
(the world

by sting invisible
impulses each rotund death
of lungs upon heaps of dying
to go out and wear more gladly it

it girls laughing
it boys sweating to be first
it arcuate of hips
it thundering of industry
it of millions tinly each


each pointless
each fathomless
each more than last
each next than other
each the other than the next

i think and i have seen by it
and have i?
way north over the barn where goes the winter
when in neatish crimson hulking ****** comes

first small coming

then steadily gargantuan

Summer

in deep veins of failing gold
only to brittle
only to fold and tousle
only to rubble and quake

alas

and i have thought

alas

and i have read

alas

and i have felt so proud to get at the meanings of poems

) but ever have i known it?

No.

i have not been my feet to push of it a million splendors

i have not been my throat to scream so loud my body shook

i have not been amongst its people

i have not tasted

i have not been by the skinny bank of a winding stream in the middle of Summer when the cool water tickles across the span of each toe the wholeness of being

i have not kissed so long to love

i have not breathed so long to speak

what then can i say?
but do i say it?
of course

i say it by hands between quick thighs
uncurling hurting bruises of hot sharpness

i say it in the hunched play of a girl's wetness

i say it in the calm stroke of a withered dog's scalp

i say in quiet moments as in loud moments

i speak(and i always speak)

and i think i have the world so much by it felt as to know it

and i think i do not know it

and i think it is not so much

and i think i have not felt it

Dear are you)your mouth is
and softly when feels
your throat full
hard and me of(
you wet
is



                        sweetheart baby darling


i can and do you want
you do and want
me to
do you?

my fingers, baby?

sweety i can.

eating to fill with gagging
your mouth nose eyes
like starlings
chirp so
deeply
incessant

and like incessantly
a straling's chirp
your lips hang
hard open to
fill


and Sugar Darling Honey
i can fill so tightly it
my with flower
thickly

until its blossom do
like you want
to sap so sticky

Honey Baby Darling Sweety
i can and fill you
my fingers
and can
can i



                ?
            (Yes.)

new was sitting across from me
her skinny was wider hips waist
hair by face was precisely framed
in the neatest skin of comely youth
i was talking my kept my mouth was
to slaver words dear as quickly heaving
as to her ears i might impulse the livid inch
of her pristine lips to defeat my useless sound

lips sit
lips on lips
sit lips
that lips split
by split lips

lick X lick

to where a bead sits
between lips
by lips split

lick X lick

"I've done a lot of ****** up ****." She said, quickly pushing the needle into her hip.

I lived while you were sleeping.