i have a vision. of something a little bit infinitely beautiful. inside me a bit.

something, a bit, that's perfect and hurts.

with bruises. or cuts (thousands of them.)

and i will tell it you.

if you want

the quiet always

of death

who leans into us a

          bit more
          each day and
          who's
          ivory
          stillness
                        creeps

death
          who steals

           crisp young

                     petals

                     from

                      inMay

                      trees


death
                      whose
                      leagues
                      upon miles
                      upon fathoms
                      of dreamless
                      shuteyes
                      strengthless
                      and wilts
                      mutest
                      uncolour

                      shall filch
                      meoryou
                      to soon from the other
                      's, unyouthing
                       also, arms

                                                but death never
                                                will conquer
                                                the svelte
                                                instant of your smile
                                                or the unlank verdance
                                                of their
                                                snarling crimson
                                                imping
                                                with my lips
                                                soundless
                                                legions of
                                                eternal
                                                SUMMER

at that your, unstartled completely, without
hesitation because hips
                                          (an electric fire; inside me)


                       SPRings

to my lips
that fleetly depart
my face to be
where they are longing
to incise
the placid unhaired
of your

                             between thighs
                             velvet forever
                             notch

penny copper skinned waist thin girl as a
wrists
           that hidden
                                tiny trembling

                                                               : a river

blue
purpled

                   and really

        more

                          notcold

                          hot

                          that's

                          got
                          skin over it
                          golden brown
                          which tastes like
                          sunscreen
                          glitter
                          and a bit too much
                          hairspray
                          running
                          in fast rills
                          down your neckintomymouth

in fairest spring,I,

         standing

    interposed

              twixt

     lightanddarkness

feel

         Raw

            fragile



                invulnerable

feet, briefly, without earth
repeat
regaled
in sound neon and

with the ground
again
part
again
rapidly
with

precise
unfaltering
youth
mirthdrunk
and laughing

there began almost a pale nothing
fleeced in nearly night
whose stomach
was vastly
muttering a strain
of ivory music
a tune
like
        unlike
                    winter

like summer more
slatterned
                   a various
sometimes
woman with
2
   apples for cheeks
   tanned rosy
at clattering
slop
        of my palm

and the wig
of barelySpring's
     cloying
     vagrant
                   smell

a never girl sits
thigh wide pretty
to the hilt
slit skirt
inveigles up
her
      and

by the skinny
breach of her
is a quick boy hungry
with
          a
             mouth

spit
       and gelatinous
               reams ofit

gets all over
a never girl
                       who
                               slits,
                               pretty
                               with a hilt,
                               hungry boy's
                               throats

shade in spring, shakes,
dance, quivers
shivers a little bit
between your shoulder
blades touches
real light
its lips
where
draws a nice
beautiful ecstasy
and an
apple
red
eaten lays
destroyed
at the pretty
pastel flakes
of your toenails

you like cuts, bleeding,
don't you
                 ?
                   (aren't you)

scratches dear,
you like,
                 don't you? dear

claret
                 baby

you like fingernails,
dear, you like,
                          aren't you?

black painted
red wells
                   from drawn, dear, you

           're

                    like that

don't you
                  ?

amongst a thicket always

           younger always

                  distinct always
                  
                    1 always
                    green
                    always
                    supple
                    always bends
                    sways
                    always yields

         amongst a thicket


                      always

                         1 always

                             frond
    
                  apart

                                         always


                   from the others
                     grows
                                gets
                                        virile
                                                  lean
                                        smart
                           careful
            younger
                           strong
                                       thicker
                                                    with
                                              ***
                                    root
                            and
                  earth
                              unarrested

                                                     sprouts

                                                                        verdant

                                                                                           Eternal

some bruises

   need for pressing.likeit

even some bruises

wantit.want delirious
sharply
             pressed
                           fingers
                                        deep
                                                into
                                                        ) aches

things eagerest, in ring time,
(the only pretty spring time)
ding a ding

                        a bird sings

dirt over clean

                           sweat lovers

sting
              and
                        sting

fist needs little openness
sprawls completely fingers
akimbo
                receiving

another also little open

                       hand

the sky is amorous of the clouds
the clouds are amorous of the wind
the wind is amorous of the trees
the trees are amorous of the earth

so is seen
that each loves of each
but never in return

i have tasted the earth
who was a girl
whose body tasted of apple and spice
whose hair was the sea
whose lips smelled of frankincense and thyme
whose hips were a bay
flush with the wisp of spring
which are a tonic
that i am habitually to eat

i just feel beautifully

       inside

as a word
                       i strive

                                      to
                                              say

                                                      (but never can)

a miracle is the smoothest purr
of night's frail wrists
producing hands
pronouncing digits
adeptly who flutter
with pale and sharp
colours
              coiled in
                               a
warm limpsey
wind
          that shakes the boughs
          of a long tree
          straight
          and titanic

hulking with indifferent fragility
the serious mouth of life
is
         a redlipped girl

who winks
                      at me

from nowhere

amiably staggers
with neon a street
diminutively
creased with
laughter
and the common
blood of youth
whose vague
aptitude for
lust is always

grows nothing thicker than
the tip of a thorn
in the softness of your palm
with a minute coronet
of scarlet
                     doesn't hurt

                     almost looks pretty

                     and won't stop till pressed

                                                 with a finger

won't ever a star fall
briefly with light
from where a comes a leaf
(no. not a leaf. a tree)
                                     yes, a tree

   ,
       out of its throat
       that sounds like a girl sounds
       the first time her heartbreaks
       easy
       like rain
       from her eyes

A moment perceived so clearly

A dash of neon

Against wet asphalt

Glows

Fades

I come a robin's egg blue sky
With a sun and a night
Lean, dank, and innumerably
Looms with magic
Just at the nape's of
Street lights

pale spark, cheeks faintly, rouged
thy kiss is the distillation of summer
in the thinplump ****** of your lips
hides uglywonderful snarling fangs
pretty like ivory or alabaster incising
sets totally me at teetering 'pon their
cute painful hushed sharpness
gets each hair of my nape on end
frivolously alight at their queer press

dreams don't dying
never live, born
though, of stillness
or moving liquid
silver perhaps or
red
         blue

                     yellow

louder and louder
one or the other or
none(orallofthem)

dreams cold, hot
, febrile
                haughty

distinguished

                          naked

(in)vulnerable

                              dreams

you.re like me not like me you.re exactly
nothing precisely like me

                                               just nothing
                                               at all
                                               everything like me
                                               you.
                                               re
                                               j
                                               U
                                              s
                                               t
                                                 like me
                                                 (not)

in you let
                   colours
                                   sing colours

say colours
                      of thy body
                                            of thy throat

sing and let colours of thy body and thy throat
loose them and become a whole thing more
perfect than human thing only; becoming more
let and let and let
                                 till they are exhausted

till you are spent of them
                                               till rages nothing in thee

let

           and
                          let
                              
                                        and


                                                             let



the colours of thy body and thy throat

fainter ever miles spreads ever fainter
ever farther miles of cool darkness
unfurl fainter colours ever fainter colours
ever deeper darkness ever darker deeper
darkness
                     and fathoms

                                                 and fathoms

                        ever

the blood of my blood

the blood of the earth

            
                 :

                                                        youmeeveryone

a rose, a rose, this morning grows
'tween hollyhocks and ***** boughs
a tightest bud whence crimson flows
a rose, a rose, this morning grows
the body of the earth
the eatage of crows
a rose, a rose, this morning goes

darling(you don't know it)but i got a mouth
a mouth that you'd like, like it would like you
O, how it(you) would like it would make you

                          my mouth

like an Ocean, darling,
                                                an Ocean, darling,

scalloped in muscles alight, darling, tightening
and untightening, darling, my mouth would
make a Sea of you, darling, it would make you
gilt in writhing wafts of sweat, darling, it would
fleck you in the thickest lather of pleasure it would
('tween your coyest thighs)whip thee into a fervent
tumult, darling, you don't know it(but I got a mouth)

somewhere a boy(at last)in who darkness
uncoils
unfolds drips
down each bone
down each finger
            to each tip
            tingling
            crackles
            the teeming
            camber
            of a girl's
            waist feels
            like sweat
            tastes like tears
            wetness and molasses
            smeared mascara torn
            tights around brief ankles
            a skirt lifted and immaculate heaving cries

listen dead
                     is a lot like sleeping

in the earth
                     where there is not

life and there
                       is wormness

there is eated
                       a faint uncolour

a body
             a quiet
                          a bigness

'cause livings
                        finiter

but dead's
                   unfiniter

it's a nice long forever where you don't rise but you do you come out the earth in a trillion spears of grass
you come out as a dandelion and your heads a delicately flared puff of cottonlike earthbreath tousled
and fractures in the breeze, lilts, doesn't cease and goes making more life
                                                                                                                                       and
                                                                                                                                                  dead
                                                                                                                                             wasn't ever

like caught in your throat


           1
                    star

burns fiercely struggling
to be loosed
to fly 'pon the collected
***** of night
and to(amongst fair
complected morning)
meekly at first

            then

                      ROAR

imperceptibly delicate(from merest fissure
of night and day)in June
emerged                                          painfully
became              a

                                 butterfly

whose wings  a                               tempest
beat
         'pon
                   shoulder and brow
                                                           a precise

violent breath
silked in the leak of summer's yolk yellow
stickthickly
that lazily ate the skin of a flock of girls
giggling hard
                                                      satted on

the crumpled fold
                                                        of

                                                                            Lust

noosenice night come
come kindly
and ****** me
of normal
whim and wit night
purple easy
                       night crusted
                                  in casual
                                       Spring
                                       the delicate
                                       stiletto of thee
                                       paled tween rib
                                       and sinew
                                                           The
                                                           quick sliver
                                                           of the moon
                                                           which by affable
                                                           stupid violence
                                                           is a smiling cudgel
                                                                                                That
                                                                                                stumbles brilliantly into
                                                                                                my skin
                                                                                                where the prime magic
                                                                                                of fairies have also
                                                                                                been and split their
                                                                                                thighs
                                                                                                admitting
                                                                                                                      LIFE

there was a cat in Spring fuzz tangling
morning pallid
'tween paw
and whisker
                               there
                                                 was 2 girls

talking their
small sharp
                                                 voices

blundering
                                                 in sleepier

Spring morning
fuzz
                                        caught

                                                      'tween
                                                       tail
                                                       and claw
                                                       whose name was "bjorn"

.                                                                                     1heart
                                                                                          by
                                                                                      2chests
                                                                                         twained
                                                                                              fold
                                                                                          ing
                                                                                                 in2
                                                                                                1another
                                                                                             by
                                                                                          feverish
                                                                                              unkempt
                                                                                            ardor
                                                                                          ungently
                                                                                             hands
                                                                                          unmake
                                                                                                the pale
                                                                                            septum
                                                                                         and
                                                                                               pour
                                                                                                  blood
                                                                                               in2blood
                                                                                           become
                                                                                         a single
                                                                                            faultless
                                                                                         immolation

Receive ever

                           hands totally

                                                       open

                      
                                                                     other hands all

                                                                                                  hands even

                                                                                                                        with love and a smile
                                                                                                                                                               A


                                                                                                                                                                L




                                                                                                                                                                W





                                                                                                                                                                 Y





                                                                                                                                                                  S

summer candy fast

                   on the back of a motorcycle in a sun dress

ignites a pale shaft
between divinity

                                  draws deeply

opaque unlife

                           into pinkness

                                    (smiles
                                     like sugar
                                     sprinkled on a razor)

                                                                            Exh
                                                                                    a


                                                                                         l


                                                                                                   e




                                                                                                                   s

never originally I
borrow myself
from minds

             friendsor

notfriends even
I get me
                      from

                               not me

                               but from what they

                                                think

                                                   I

                                             only
                                                         i

                                                            am

that do of a cherry trimmed mouth
is a kiss needing face woman's
she that like a sea is in motion
eternally seamless and flows
with ease through chaste infinity
(her hips are like a pair of crescents
pressed around a split fraction
of heaven where lips are always
for wanting the roughest sating
of my hips spilling them full of

           girlsandboys
                                   )

comes from the earth
a flower roughly
divulges tenderest
colours in early
morning dew lathered
becoming immutable
unbreaking

                      destroys

streets feel like (with youth crisp faces
dotting them and dainty hands splayed
round tea cups sitting 'neath umbrellas
or walking gently peels with abrupt
naked unlank thighs in Spring(thank
goodness for; who draws from tightly
foiled skin the needing for freshness
air and luminous colours))Girls who
on trim agile calves

                                awkwardly noble

uncoil languorous legions of flesh

listen i want to tell you something
i want to tell you through merest
weakly stupid body of human rind
my whole self; i want to say every
part of me and i want you to hear its
stinging divine crescendo and i want
to ****** it sharply into your heart
where i hope that even if it doesn't
always make sense it doesn't need
to 'cause that's just me that's all of
me and nothing

shoulderBlades meekly scrunched, hard, together shoulder blades.
Before me shoulderBlades and spine curved up to head, raven coiffed,
hair pulled, lipbiting, shoulder blades: you've got monsters inside you

     've

got pain, cuts, and bruises inside you

                 've

got pretty eyes and dimples and you like to wear flats, tanktops, and skirts.
But i like how your monsters taste like molasses and sulfur, they taste like
fingernails(turquoise)rending. And your cuts feel like lace and razors they
feel like your waist in hands thick with me deeply in you: shoulderblades.

if living's dying always. Then dying's always living
,or is dead and living never. Then is living even?

                     or was dead always?(who knows)i know.
                                                           ­                      life
                                                            ­                  is always.
                                                         ­          Never dies. hot
                                                         with cheeks rosey, flushed
                                       ,brimming with someone else's cheeks
                         equally rouged and with love veneered. Vulnerable
                  life absurdly lived. life spontaneous. Best with a cup of tea
              or in a loud drunk room with music, skin, and tattooed. Life always never dying life. Even if dead.

would , maybe someone , inform me as to why
fleeced in morning's fiercely nimble glow
a flower might, undead, livid, 'gainst the neat
stomach of sky crackle stunningly minute
yellow
                  and roaring

                                             with intense fragility

be right next to my hip and with the 2 red, and a black, dots
of an ant scurrying across the span of a barely petal;gleaming
deliriously apt with colour)smile, a wan, nolips grin and
that that it might be Spring in a whole bright day clothed
in a seamless cowl of grey; the general blade of sky might,
like a leaf of grass, leap from heaven into my chest

               staggers
          ;
tumbling into domineering noon) and that I: ridiculously living, might
witness such an instant incredibly perfect. Dying
                                                                                        ?

the futures always never immediate
imminently futile brief furious
not like fields outward sprawling
instantaneously 'neath an entire
sea of stars faultless unheaving
pastoral breathless catches you
sharply between your *******
quivering elated passing immutably
into dust

                (and i just laugh and pull
                 the finite immeasurable
                 lust of thy beginning kiss
                 into a trembling pile of lips,

                                                                '

                                                          ,


                                                                     ,



                                            '



                                                                                .