you the
con is ce

stract

          ab of

hurt *****
too
put inside

    me

thick fingers scarlet

(in a petite lake
of white white white )

you moan
you churn
over your belly
onto your face
"down
***
up
      ."

from somewhere nearby a lark is suddenly
over
the whole dancing mess of humanity
even louder
than is to be the screech honking
of voices car engines
into cringing violence of
increasingly silent manifolds
around the white body
of that birds cracking majesty
it opens its throat and the entire world shuts the **** up

what do dreams meet flowers  ?
whose
             fair

hands seriously complain with

graves straight upright grey
in tight rows    ,

some effulgent rill of daisy
suddenly the earth breaking

the stiff silence of
FALL

.
















































"You can hurt me if you want."



"You're not into it–

I can't do it if you're not into it."







































.

Big,
i cannot believe how so
incredibly
you are hot and orange
with
Summer i can remember

wandering through
the vestige
of your hot flesh

(cool exactly alone)

one lonely hand
making
the making

of a girl face
cupped by curling laughter

hair

that

i cupped with
laughing joy of lonely love

(i wonder
i remember

and dream of deeply loose muscles
in that quiet city
of constant noise

to You,

dear reader,  (who i am)

that you are

the way–the same


risen
of nothing dirt
grass through
stars and fire:

the very finite mystery of life
is a sliver in the quick of the night

burning;
jousting of
fierce lung
to make your body
within other bodies

a new molten slowly
freezing
quip of moments
seized
by brute slender violence

a repeating ever outward into darkness flame;

who'll ***** their fingers in fear of pain
(and find themselves in Summer Rain

love

i wish it could

contained within

the body
(of 1 body)

be.