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PK Wakefield Jul 2014
one beyond perfect
who through
neat newness
of skin is pressed

prying between
pages of same
glued by glueless
hands of everyday

her waist
her hips

                     (:thickyoung)
                            wai
                   ­       sthips
                            pry

ing between new old pages of glued by
       glueless hands(
       of everyday.     )




her face




her              cheeks
PK Wakefield Jul 2014
do you i
have some
memories

   of remembering

some remembering

i was when
you were

two cold outside
to walk and
we so
(staying)
stayed inside you

were very warm

and




                                             (it was so cold outside)
PK Wakefield Jul 2014
at how does gleam the cherry **** of your cylindric pertness–lips–i beco
    me me in two folds of self on each one pressed the drooping brand of y
       our hands stings to cooly touch with the unhinging of cottoned hurt
           ing in when the sun suddenly of gradual imperceptible dying revo
              lves on the apex of youth its own immortal youth; such dreams a
                 s magic become the ethereal toyness of your wrists that fleetly
                    stagger of whiteness with substance wholly girl with two
                       ******* wine for a mouth and darkness for hair even
                          the night is jealous at their fibers and remarks with
                             disturbed violence a shower of stars to mark
                                its brunt, its curling of tight fingers into
                                  fists of foisted heating)
                                              (there
   ­                                         such
                   ­                     brightness
                                 ­      is a circle within
                                      A circle of
                                     tingling bruteness
                                     you have liked me
                                       to be between your
                                         smart ****** of cherry
                                            pertness–
    ­                                                LIPS
PK Wakefield Jul 2014
summer that like into the entering of cold hands open constantly some
crystal breath like dream such as has been dreamt of twisting into cold
figures of unlived bodies

                              : the earth the sun the moon the stars :
PK Wakefield Jul 2014
let's go for a walk i miss you how deeply and beautiful  you are  amongst
such  things  as  sagebrush,  old  mountains  and  the  wincing  silence  of
pierced by bird throats quiet it is so  quiet  inside  you i  want  to  put  my
hands in there i want to put my lips eyes and mouth forever to lay  inside
you one blue spectrum of self in no parts the whole thing and always and
forever between the cold heat of summer your body's mind is a tight song
way over the mountains in a coiling weep of  rain  that  like  rain  touches
every frond of the light forest we are inside of whose body is trees of such
dark wood even i cannot say that i know them
PK Wakefield Jul 2014
what are to me you do doing
                to me
you youing?

the hard that comes
where soft is key:
(mouths that hurt
on bended knees);

teeth that teeth
through sharp where skin,
pushing self
when clothes are thin.
PK Wakefield Jul 2014
i would like to(between your lips)
become
(my own lips)and
my body–

                 my kissing



                                     .become


the tight rose of
your garden doused
in youth

where                  very

unvagrant

i would like to always house
my fists;


more open more unclosing of
petals, *****

distinctly clothed in the aroma
of your thighs

(–i can imagine my face being only
good only
of wanted flesh
upon my cheeks when
they are with your cheeks ) and please

can i give them
to you my
lips my
kiss
my
fists?
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