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.

love (notlove)

i think you cruelly

i think you distinctly perfumed of hair

lavendermint (jasmine) stars and night                       think

you smell like cheap, cigarettes, coffee                        think

and you taste like cardboard dust and                         think

(linger ultimately fatally clinging) smoke                   think

lovenot love you i                                                            thin­k

but so comely smooth olive (skin)                                think

unthink             ­                                                                 ­drink

can i destroy myself in you

by my face standing the next to upstairs window looks out (i can see) on the hot inch of a glowing city youth where and unyouth mingle (a cat) in a fat buzz of quiet freezing still air it looks so coyly diminutive (curls about eyes)(through next doors window) opaque and not breathing pallid sprawls tinly its tummy has groaning stretch marks(a paw)thick with amber nestled suddenly a car horn(and skitters away)

86 boys jeerless laid in the earth today
86 boys unlaughing
86 boys white
86 boys skinny
86 boys laid in the earth today

(i stood and watched them lay a shovel against them 86 boys sleeping
in sharply frozen wilted hands of almostwinter 86 boys went into the
earth today i stood and watched them lay a shovel against them

god's spades little digging children 'tween the hips o' girls
digging deeply (al itt le finger) lays a thousand times; seeds


                                   (niggles the dry packed loosing firm)

a root extending from

                                             into

                                                           a rose becomes
                                                                     a thorn
                                                                          pricking
                                                                        

waists (shoots and leaves
              shoots and leaves
              shoots and leaves

                                              )gardens calls 'em boys
                                                calls 'em boys when
                                                (digging spades release)
                                                a seeds to spill girls 'tween hips 'o

.                                                                ­                  



                                           ­                                           small



             ­                                                                 ­        start




                                               ­                                         through





           ­                                                                 ­             musicome




                                                    ­                                      come through








                                                 ­                                            all tenor and hue








                                                     ­                                          1 note shining








                                                 ­                                              1 note silver








                                                  ­                                              1 note clear


                                                         ­                                                                 ­as


                                                            ­                                               like
                                            
                                                          
     ­                                             
                                                                ­              water

                          

                ­                        come



a fury of twinkling and sound
pushing aside hotsweetness
pierce by sturdy breath the night
and come easy of cheek velvet
(soft as                             neat as)

emerging from thy breast a spangle
(a sprig

                   raw
                                            
                                              in    heat)

which­, though sleeping, wants of
gushing lather (SPRING) to leap
the frailing prism of the human lips

               A song
               more frail
               more dying
               even than

sleepgirl don't

                               the world
               waits

                        for
                  your
                           hands to
                     find it
                   kindly nestled unfisted gracefully held
                   A round word of unspeaking lips
                  berried in love of colours inumerable
                  cupped in the stomach of the ocean complains
                  against the night

                                                          ­       A LIGHT

                   which in your carefullest heart eternally
                   quakes for letting
                   so uncarefully more divide thy palms
                   admitting a fragile infinity of kissing)andsleepinggirldon't

what waits beyond the edge of a light(idontknow)
there is not a sound but
there is a very fine forest
where a crow is gently
a river is sleeping
and silver through all the trees is dancing

there is an old man who is dying inside me
he lies by a pale ocean
his eyes are and mouth mouth crawls with
ladybugs Spring is there
her lips are full of chafe and brightness hangs
about a flower less
petals each into the wind next to a pale ocean
where there is an
old man who inside of me is dying

give not a sound

      trembler

the knees knocking crane
'oer a lathered thing rising

by mute unsound

       fumbler

the crook pierced open vane
by jeweled petal (a poppy smiling)

creeply warmth unbound

        tumbler

a flower blooms in sullied fane
inch by eater -- becomes silver stung

stickysummer i remember fingers in you
were (golden brown too warm almost
slick with shade and trees where
curling youths (uncurled) pulled
out smelling like the ocean when the
tide has gone way out and) your grip
went around my wrist to your mouth
and without a thinking
drank from them

       blood

"i like girls"each hole is something
easy nice and wet
in a sallow sheathe of skin
tight of sweat
after yoga class
in between their thighs
before not after
a shower
tasting like a parting
shale of acrid
heaven
bent over the washing machine
GULPandmy"kneeshurt"

a little silently the wind comes

and the earth comes

and the stars come

and the moon comes between them
a soft as curvingly round like *******

stands a wide and flat unmoving
except for a cow or 3 field
below the diminutive inch
of a hill wearing me like a ******

rests laden in frost soil
doesn't say a thing and my
hand passes through the
distilled utterance of my

lungs a drooping crystal ******

on the steps of an old house sits a bright boy
(his hands are full of sleeping and flowers are)
he is in the summer a bit and there he is
sitting a bright boy on pale steps with his hands
full of sleeping and flowers are carefully and
he plucks each from and each from he plucks
their petals on the old steps of a house in
the hot pash of sunlight sits a bright boy, who

bright house
are you clean, bright house?your eaves
are heavy bright house
they are full of ivy
they are full of silence, dark vines
and on their bellies only pale leaves
and on their bellies only creep over you
bright house you are full of silence
and you creep with whiteness
you are soft as nothing
and you are thick with ivy

and are you clean?bright house

behind my eye twitches) not a whisker
stirring from immense sleep leaps arcuately
determined of slim air to meander in precise
dithering cuteness (a fat and orange ellipsis

who, by first light is fingers
each deeper fingers than last
through grass rushing fingers
pressed (and wet of tawny
dew cut 'pon the softest pebble
howl) a very straight forest
from where darkness easily
wrests (its thigh open

                                        its petals tousled


                                                                               )more

do you see
     (eye have)
shadows?

they are a tiny billion streets
littered
           piling

in drifts

'bout streetlights 'bout
          stop signs   'bout
          dimly frosted pains
          of dimly glowing windows


gathered
gathered

huddling(and their hands almost touching

                  but don't

                   passing


passing

                                  )shadows


a­ tiny 1000000000

                                          










­



























                                     ­                            in the streets
          



























                   ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­                         




















                   ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­                        ,

love is a girl with black hair last Saturday night
i said, "you have something in you i see, which
is a little vulnerability and beautiful is so"
and tattoos(milesofand)
that were a heart pierced by a blade
anda gain pierced

   A heart

with dark red lips
said, "you're really sweet, but i have a boyfriend"

my HAND)
                    a drink
                                loudly
                                         was
                                    there
                                          cut
                                       by
                                         a slight
                                  wedge
                                         of
                                             lime
                                    it had
                                       also
                                    a sharp
                                        blade
                                     of
                                       mint
                                   in
                                        it
                                   ,a gawking
                                 boy sat
                               with
                                 his
                                         lover
                                  in
                              round
                                     *******
                                 fit
                                    his
                                eyes
                                     music
                                 complaining
                               and
                                     "the bass
                                    is too loud"
                                 she
                                      looked
                                 like
                                         spit
                                       heaving
                                  and
                                           a
                                      SIGH

i have the (deliberate) comely legion of summer marched through
in the lather of poppies;i fell sleeping with flowers from my skin
pulsing to reach the sun

                                               by stems fragile aching

                       LAVENDer

and



                marigolds 2

                                           were

                                                        there

                                                                   they
                                                                    had
                                                                     *****
                                                                       small
                                                                        voices
                                                                         but smelled like
                                                                          H
                                                                          O
                                                                        N
                                                                         E
                                                                        Y

on the ***** of pin rests the whole breathing and dying finite ugly world

cast in minute wearing

)she is fair and frail and far and far

Ffall, she shrugs shoulders and from
there stumbles gold in delicate smash
in aching sigh, in verdant crash
                                                                                      (the sun small i see through my window out there

somewhere a girl is probably sitting who almost)

heavy all the quiet laying music thickly between livingdying November

is suddenly stirred

at foot through many

running and laughing children

(wisps of growingfrailing stuff innumerably sheathed in a smalling pat of pale light)they

charge and roll up a hill by the school yard, boysandgirls together

boysandgirls together up going


                                                                     a hill

(whose mothers stand at the bottom and try to catch them when they fall

risky are you little summerspring

          ?wetbetween and eager for


(legs and fingers)

ivory, littlesummerspring, are you

and soft as

smooooooth as

long little summerspring spread

cherry and pink

cherryandpink little summerspring




                                                                                                                                                          




                                                                                                                                                              (and wet)

i got so many beautiful

   (words and Dear
          hands, Baby)

they just want to breaking
leap across the chaste ugly
winter a sting of poppies
into her steep heart bury
their roots and climbing
them shout from clenched
colours warmth as you
have next to a sweating
Summer lake been curiously full of

)it all hangs in a rough instant

     between your mother's hips

        a nice rectangle of pine

             and a long night

                                           (Life

i have like tress stood piercingly between slick sheets of darkness

                                       light

pressed with lips full of burning pollen(a sting)

whispered in ***** bold dreaming

unloose cruel love

and

burst

it is big how life gradually through speaks girls
tall beautifully

                                 and little ugly perfect

                            flowers and flowers and flowers


in WINTERSPRINGAUTUMNSUMMER reign

and rain

                 from wind

                                        wind shook

                                                          ­       boughs              LEAVES!



in crunching miles of soundless quickly trees


                                                   straight and straight and straight


row on row into the night march(but curl a bit at their finger,s
eager brushing)(my heart's fine dismal smirk
                                                           ­                                                 )

i have always wanted to write a poem that
thin wristed

smiling at stupid jokes

with hair tiny thousands dark

wanted to listen to French jazz on Saturday mornings

there(realslowlydancing)is feet
cast in leather sweating ankles
up with(firstcalvesdiamond
hardlittlesharp)a delicate feminine

barely in neon

and shook smoke swirling giggles

thighs;****,pink!hair:andPrickles of

tingling most

(and bet tight i her inside is cool hot throbbing) DeLiCiOuS

let me tell you some heat through the glowing waft of crisp stars hung with the sharp croak of a

                      here bird

                                                   and a



                             there starling

                                                       ­         on a filament invisibly


                                     cast

                                                and


     ­                                                         cast

  ­                                                                 ­       and


                                                    ­  
                                                               (by a pale spider titanically frail huge)


                                                         ­       from lewd ***** tall beauty

                                                         ­        muscles violent
                                                         ­        charge lathered in the murk
                                                            ­     of failing night
                                                           ­      rise and again rise
                                                            ­     thumping brazenly (feel dainty prim or)

i have caught on the edge of shadows

               my hands

halfly splayed by quarters and 1/3s
darkness and lightness

(in my hands splayed, caught)

and folded it neatly into my soul

its heatness and its coolness

adroitly cupped in sudden gold:

SUMMERFALLAUTUMNSPRING

come up through me

   lifting


         brightly

to
the        naked cup

      of my lips

an unpursed

whiteness

that shall spill

over thy slender

life

             LIGHT

tonight


                 walking


     i see


in

                   the


passing

                 tightly

     gusseted


                      human things


a very small pretty

        which

is in their lips


      hiding till their


lover turns


        (whispering sweetly nothing)




       or laughs abruptly children



          causing one causeless


         unnecessary grin


    to perch instantly


     ) the wind against my coat


     presses coldly



               November and.

i will die and because of you (i won't)
if you should happen to find this
(because) then, if you would please
read it; dead i might though be (of you
alive more) distinctly breathing not
awhisper nor a wisp of breath from
un(reading)eyes

                                  (this)

i have fallen through all beauty(till
eagerly met i this moment)

when shrugging elegant words
eased from the cream of colorless
pages a purely growing perfection

into my soul the inconcise mess
of edward's dumb fingers
and his most dead mind

the confusion of all instantly wondrous splendor
(and edward, did you suppose that caught as if by
filaments dying immortal threaded into woven
hanging letters the gush of when you rused up
the best hill driven by black wine that i would
laying amongst pale cotton come alive in you)?

let me tell you that even in the very fatally reclining Autumn some kind of blossoms do
gregariously stutter through human motes blundering in the sallow thinness of heat
and their petals are (though skinny) increase and increase again till bursts into
flame the ember of their crooning pistil a fountain of majesty (from which lust eats)
washing every face in sudden aching brevity, the immortal night, her pleasing coo
is as stars like and nothing also, yet of real body, in serious fatally reclining Autumn keeps
the vagrant heart

                                                                                                                                     the crisp sleeps

your mouth is a pale crescendo
about which mutters beauty
(lipscheecks;eyes;hairandbody)
easy with crass eager nobility
and just a bit of intense fingers
culling fleetly every atom of
girl fleece into a singular punch
of lush dangerous silence

that caves when rushes your
neck into my mouth its crisp
foal (on awkward skinniness
suddenly) blisters engorged
with scarlet and strenuous rapid
sound

            BURST

ope n al l t h e smal lt hin gs (between)
th ei rmiddle s i swri th e ge n tl         y
m yst er y (that which tiny wanders
awe) brigh tfast bl indl ingly w i t h e r s

                   faceshands

into dust stumbling minutely though
g   r   a    s  p in ga nd b    i   t  i n       g
so open all the small things (boys and
girls open them they have empty which
like you have and faster more colorful
nothing they) s                                        o
open all the small things boysandgirls
spilling from them running rivers of
poppies splayed out in raw pallid eve
rushing through cambered fragility
(that instantly with precise mess flair
with the curving orange of death       )

the more less you (than unsuddenly writhing
with magic)i write for is really not and too
bad 'cause(taking with neat blackest fingers: me)
if you were i would swear a poem of fast
intricate roses(who amongst coyly hidden
scythes take)that swell with scents as
nearly radiant and folded as thy own scent
of swelling(so please waiting too long don't to
finding) enchanted nothing: rolls and rolls

of stink

there will die in me nothing that has been you (though if even instantaneously you pressed against my eyes your face in some passing razor of a hot second flensed the air and flung across all silence your perfect stare back into me and it felt like SUMMER when you did and baby i'll never feel nor never kiss thy damson and crisp mirth lined lips)

                                                                                              buttherewilldieinmenothingthathasbeenyou

by things O new less understood than more carefully studied

                                  (life)

easy come easy


                                  as rain come






                                                      ­         warmly though November

                                                       ­                                                    from.


(life, your name is the hot curl
of my lover's wrist in the discreet
wander of lust's homely fracas , life


                                                          ­            )hang by
                                                              ­         straightening
                                                   ­                    heat the
                                                             ­          smart scowl
                                                           ­            of your
                                                            ­           veritable strum
                                                           ­            (snow) and
                                                                ­        unsnow
                                                  ­                      in dirt and music
                                                           ­             as a flower through,
                                                        ­                pushing brisk starlight
                                                       ­                 on each petal softer
                                                          ­              than each petal pushing
                                                         ­               softer and
                                                                ­        softer and

                                                            ­            starlight




                          life



     ­                                 know





                  less­
                         me
                                i
                            ­       less
                                    y
                      ­            o
                                u
                 ­                      and understood
                                                      ­             clearly nothing
                                                         ­                       (the rinse of your
                                                            ­                      though November
                                                        ­                          warmly rain
                                                            ­                       defies
                                                          ­                         beyond logic
                                                           ­                         )
                                      ­                                              beauty

if only tell me something fragile say perhaps LOVE dreamless blustering of lips tumble
through years distinctly smelling of old sweaters in a careful blade of summer turn
and turn hotly shoulders into sometimes air the fullness of your breath
and fall from heaven (piercing gently every cloud)
in softness stricken with girl arms parting
stabbed by my arms parting
and fill me burning

light,