vexes sharp looks intriguing blond of hair
tightly of thighs mutters a pair
that i think might sound nice like
a nighttime sounds
pretty pushing a pin

between them

o   t      d                 w   to      FRIDAY harbor            w     s
    h                          e                               ­             i        a       o
   i        a       I        n                                            t        s ­      r
s       y                t                                               ­                 t
                                              ­                                     of

                 gorgeous
a peeling ember of light
pomped and glutted
serenely basking
a fleshless
glove                                                of­        light
                                                   ­                  all over the bay
                                                             ­        and twiddling
                                                       ­              my skin
                                                            ­         between the little shops
                                                           ­          i was
                                                             ­        and i was

the splint to mountains trollop
and ecstasy of luminous death
a sunging light is hurdy gurdy
and
            to behind
their rocky stiffened pose
it's a plunging ***** of deeply laughing violet

mouth quickly incredible tripping with youth meekly feels
moist, single, and crimsonly accelerates two bent velvet
lengths of lip, mouth, singly imports a kneading on my
short lanks of uncoloured. Dear,

                                                          who small, wan, paleness
                                                          of cheek is writ with the
                                              quiver
                                                          of
                                                                cupid's
                                                                               pricking,

                                                    treads
                                                               of thy nostril, lip, and ear silver
                                                               hangs a curving set of beads from
                                                               thy nose

                                                                                 and the back of your
                                                                            head
                                                                      is
                                                              nice
                                                     under
                                                 my
                                           hand
                                     pressed
                                  thickly
                                 into
                                 cotton
                                  and
                                    your
                                       back
                                         ,which,
                                            slithers
                                              and rolls
                                            says,
                                                      "hello, destroyer"

in the curious forgetful wings
         of pallid darling sleep
your ******* areso a shimmering
flock of ardent lumps
my humors colic
                                (i twice and 1nce)
my vague and distinct mouth
to huddle on their splendor
my charming and my spit

a perhaps summer wilt with hands maybe
like cups or bowls o' laughter running over
what drizzles o'er the numerous human
stuff by a pondsome quick pretty water
glittering succulently its most cool grasp

o'er her body from it gallops the crescents
of her lush formidable query i tousle
with my tongue like last winter i was
walking in a garden when the frost
stung my nose real hard and i was
just almost inside when i noticed how
absolutely demure the snow was
clutching the soil it like a lover it from
whom it nay would release except for
that same afternoon it rained and
all was unfrozen and loved no more
the snow the soil like this terrific

droplet of her skinny strength stabbed
with youth and running out her wounds
the ablest *** dances rushing on sturdy
limbs to snare over the cuirass of flickering
electronic flesh (my chest) and drape
supreme fair fairy dust inside each
nostril and straight to my dithering acute
brain and tingles abruptly her
belated fingers unday brushing the eaves
of cobalt with purple frilling the
edges and we repose in the cracked
bucket leather seats of my drab yellow
volvo and

                 and
                         and

shimmershimmerglimmer
at the edge of darkness
flickers little flecks
of gold

i try to r  e  a  c  h
my hand to touch the
impossibility possibly
just there
on the other side
of they*

these elusive
little
golden
flakes

just

at

darkness

e

d

g

e

i have felt almost deepness
pouring out ever pore of me
rills of music sweetly
and i am a fountain
of words beautiful completely
unstuttering words
and every one is for you
my dearest and my littlest

            YOU,.',,
                          .
                    .        
                           '
                              ,
                                     '

                              '

                   .






                               ,

for though burning

turn face

wide open

into

             LIGHT

                             slip

                          

                      thy



                                      falling


                      voice


               'bout

                        flicker


               eyes

                         rapidly


                  lids half

             mouth full


                   juice


              runneth


                          over



              clear sticky



                  more sweeter



              and


                              immolate

it is funny





                        Livingdying



because                                       ,


(careful and new Spring
) is

autumn, thing. well

almost maybe

do you suppose, Dust

for ****** old maid

that passes quicker into nothing

it is funny


that because, lady

your fruit is nice and ripe
though for second
and forever won't

livingDying

do you suppose?

a who
so what
that nays
or nary
a not
a knot of narys
guggled to
from shrill    th
                    roat
                                                            she called the kettle B
                                                         l
                                                              ack

summer enormously frail fringed and golden
summer arguing with timidity
with youth and tangled
laughter gargling
low streets strung
lights mellifluously
straddle amberly the
nape of silently
and beginning
suddenly light
over asphalt
springs leaping
the mountains over
and
        SpLaSh!irides
                                 of
      3 petals and 3 drooping sepals
    glow gently
   caressed
                          at
       handless *******
       white

               ,

     .

         ,


.

shivering

naked

in my arms

wetly:
         kisses

softly:
         touches

unclench
the hot marvel of winter
and lay summer in thy bed
twiddling between her wetness
a sharp steam of pleasant filthy snow;

this thing is very pretty.
it does not say much,
its cheeks are pale over
and beneath blossomed with crimson.

it has 2 light eyes
of greeness which
move softly over the nose
and lips–2 florid strips of pinking.

its hair is spun of evening sunlight,
red hushed and riven with ray.

this thing is rare
and beautiful
and lovely beyond lovely.

this thing is a girl,
she says
her name.

her eyes move softly,
and her cheeks shine as blood with snow.

few things have ever been so perfect,
few things have ever been so girl.

Walk the earth
Tickle bones
The perfect place
To call your home

Crumpled dirt
On my sheets
Pulling out
My endless teeth

Laying in a field of wheat
Reach my hand
To **** the ****

Starry heavens
Far away
Never leaving
Never stay

Face down
In ***** dirt
Breath the dust
**** the hurt

where hard meted soft arose
a dainty
sanctum: sweet sweaty valley
all peach
an beckoning tone summons roughly

how
         could
i deny
                        THIS
                      
absolute delicate?

eye's
dripping
i's
pale skin
over
blue snakes
writhing
with perspicuity
beneath translucence

beat
beat
beat
heart

i only
imagine
it
beat
beat
beat-

ing
in my
head
(her)
in my bed

scream wild silence
into the calm noisy streets
                                  young feet flecked.
a hushed overture of creased whispers
          profuse in the market sulfur tide.

all the windows wax an offer to the loose money pockets.

"who would wear that?" i hear i


                                                                       hear i hear.

on bended knee proffered
golden hoop

burn lurid 'gainst
pallor palms

saying: nothing

her silence
the loudest quiet

a confused or starry night:
It sweats
                with burning
Jewels Jousting Just
as lovely as my lady's eyes which sparkle quick as diamond's
   F                    .                                                           ­                                             !
  i             , '             '  ,                                                             ­                              '
n g e r s.'   ;   '              '.                                                          ­                       ,
                   .     '  . ,   ;                                                            ­               ;
                      ,                         ­                                                         '
      ­                   ' , ,  , ,     ,    ,   .    . . ..........................................   '

wet stoops
wet sleeps
down beside
vibrant hulks
of day into night becoming
a persimmon fleshed in robes
of sweetish musk of raging dark:

that blind canny o' comely marsh
where sweats tallly the brisk frigid
smirk of winter coming into between–

i cannot fathom
nor wonder 'pon a thing more
violent **** or primly stolen
than the absurd tumor of suddenly
which every immense second of life
Is.

and how do i call it?
how do i name it by itself?
is it nameable?
is demanded some strict finitude of immutable logic?
or is impossibly monikered in nothing short of illimitable self?

(and who have I been? have i been myself? where did i begin? and shall i ever end in knowing?)

i am sitting hot

gladly sweating i see

a centillion

of shimmering

dash off the bodies

of cars marching distantly further i am

(hear) the muzzled snort of
some angry guys
who are wont to go but i am

smelling the disgruntled curiosity
of heads

               out

their windows downup looking at i
taste the blush of blundering eve vastly
squatting slowly

its haunches on the hunched roar of a
"shitload" of yelping aluminum throats (iam)

tasting the shavings of eyes

that peer looking up the long line laying
shimmering with a centillianth
of summer  

they gawk hard up the
road to where there is neat lights blinking lights (neatly

up the road there is the hot blab of summer and the ***** of a

                suicide
                            )

i have been most alive
when my hands extend
beyond extension, crawl
leaping the air to clutch
in them the moon fairies,
dust magic,

                           and music

o music usually that eats
its no thing and has breath
like a nubile thigh: young
hard hot breath that creeps

o music sometimes the or
loud curving rush of your
mystery it curls in my ears
it sounds like girls laughing

it has legs weak that tremble
for between them digging
fingers, a sound like piercing
emits                                   it

is softer

beyond softer it clings in
fairy moons, magic dust
and a whole muss of
shuddering envelopes its

rushing curve

and hands leaping

extended

beyond extension

nearly you when i have felt pulsing
my heart(yourheart)has become
one smooth toto
red and hotter and tiny
fluttering stupidly
smiling under
your *******
my hands cup it
and to my dumb finally mouth
i draw,carefully,your fierce noble blood
and drink drink drink drink drink drink

t
e
a
r

t
ea
r

sad eye
do not d-
well

though deeply
wet

thoughts
on this:

you are beautiful

when i do looking(eternally)into
your eyes steeply
the complete
ingenious potion
of their
smallest
drunken dots
eat the entire fullness
of me
and i fall into them
                                                            ­                      


                                        ­                                         4ever

you should've seen
i was like lightning
like swift hammers
falling shout
i was like arrogant
i was like pain
i was a fist laden shade, speckling skulls sumptuously
a lithe darkness
paunchy of carpels
and i laid it in his vessel (

         and he slept
                                )

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
          



























                   ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­                         




















                   ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­                        ,

this thing
it did:
hid
in that
penumbra
pooling
'round
cognitive
conjugations
of
postulatio­ns
peaking
above m(i)
unconscious

i tried to lift
its heavy
concept
but
synaptic
sinew
frayed
on its serrated
flavor
severing realities
from
actualities

beneath th e  naked of my feet is the cadence
of the earth. leafs spit cracking fibers. innumerable
songs of death. and loved 2 well was fall. but now
suddenly summer grins a heat fetish. sensual sun
risk a grip of my shoulders, a golden gilded lady. all
about my freckles play your little hands. flutter exactly
wings of coming fingers all about my skin. and marry
to your ******* my gentle chest. lips locked serenade
played bony embers. in your perfect bony prison beats
your vermilion perfection and nerves. soundless noise
mingle in     my lips and direct my hands about the landscape
of your timid hips. strong skinny. how about, maybe, you love me?

us clambering)
                                                     ­                                o(     throats
                                                         ­                             i     pillars of salt
                           upward                                              c   looking back
                     ing              voices                                  a    a flower
                l,l                                sprung ­                  r       in the barren
             a                                              almost     of          soil
when f                                                       clean              shouted
                                      ­                                                             a most
                                                            ­                                           a violet
                                                          ­                                                  a violent
                                                         ­                                 staccato colour
                                                   from
                                                            ­     its
                                                             ­         sepulcher
                                                                ­                    of primless
                                                                ­                                  error
                         ­                                                                 ­             smashing
            groomed
                         unhard
                                  petals
and

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

spiral down bodies
as our mouths turn toward
each others
erupt frenzied rapture
in a gasping valley
ramble i do testing
every scent i elicit
from the imperfect cure
of her shady lungs
coat me with your
heavy breaths
i'll wear your tongue
on my god
for
this night

the broad back mountains of there is some dust of mellow light a failing day
milked and honey dewing the tremoring gardens. i tend them with my
mouth, are they well?and i ask the shop keeper what isle may i find some
cotton tubes. he seems a man slightly shocked ears crinkled in the veneer of youth chipped clean
an man oldly. am i odd here, and outside the lashes of air break on trees
the leaves muttering a basic pleasing sound

the light is angry in stark dress that is up and i see its nakedness on every
item languishing on the shelves. but here and there is some shadows, it
's not new. this place. like the man. it waits for silently some patrons who
might find it amongst the hills. cleanandwaiting. he walks it every day
sifting the echoes with some boots leather creaking. startling the empty
air with his generous presence. generally i walk about and look. and i
found them. "seven.25"
ok

4of1
8 speaking
in gluey resin
sweaty spits all
in every rouge drowning
supple cheeks between writhing
pinkheat
carelessly incredible
screaming sourly
some
cali((for
            nia)
            i
            c
           a
           t
           i
           o        n)

i know precisely the whitest utterance
of almost spring nights; of nights
bewitched sonorous
sleeping fragile
fantasies.  from who is belched a pale
gossamer sleepingest city; i who love the
moon brimming stiller streets of
her flush tremble
her sabled hush
her most coyly subdued excitement

we

we di

we did walk

step
step
step
step
;stutter
(stop
in that) garden

verdant lush
withers thus
our kissing
i's
play soft fingers (over)
thighs:
all aquiver

darkness longs to touch
(obsidian sheet
hangs off petals)

;you

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"

i garnered a sense
of this imposing ****
   (her streets,thiscity                                 ,
were a thickset forest
of garbled noble flesh
) and the abrupt wrists
she wears her hands
on they
and spout                      a tremulous quaking fever
                                        in lean corpulent unseriousness
                                       an hour
                                          on her rock soft fluff
                                                  tickles shocking knots of fuzz that bubble
on my lips
                                and briefly stumble on my nostrils

          their fire
                             and they're dirt

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

to ***** on the finger of my body

youthere

is a small blood

a drooping bead

           of(hangs



in fracturing silence)

twixt rigidly supple youth
collects(



                    A



                                Bruise




                                                  Slowly



                                                                     Larger



                                                                                                   )





                                                                                  a
                                                                                 nd
                                                                                the
                                                                              moon
                                                                              playf
                                                                             ully is


                                                                   slender




                                                                                            crescented


                                                                 wiggles



                                                                                           hard


                                                                     with


                                                                                           my


                                                                           fingers



                                                                                    tightly

                                                                               in
                                                                                         it

                                                                               SCREAMS

"goodnight" (oh and by the way
love though you) i

(walking briefly away) by your door
wilting

streetlight stands awkwardly half

(wilting and half awkwardly splits)

dusky silent ruby

lips and body

(then)"goodnight"

turns

At a quarter past eleven AM Charles took the stairs down to the lobby. Spare, yet stridently attired, he moved with the august vigor of a man only a third of his sixty-two years. Smart shoes, brimming smile and shoulders laden in the heavy weave of his sharp overcoat, Charles exchanged a quick wink with the precisely groomed lobby girl.

"Always a pleasure." He quipped.

"Always." She replied.

Drawing a deep breath of the frigid air, Charles paused as he pressed his shining wingtips into the undisturbed palate of that previous night's latest snowfall. Looking around excitedly, admiring the deep shimmer of that brisk morning:

Charles was struck down immediately by a large volume public transport–moving at an unusually high velocity.

Waiting For Oblivion
in a frock of wrinkles sits
wearing through silently
minutes
toward
forever

these things are my house, the
house of my body and my flesh
swing singing
singed and swaying
over grass cut freshly short

the knots and roots
of who trees blister
through the soil and meet
with feet
their rough and earthen body.

there is a light piercing the dull
night crisply hurt with twinging
of star song shaking and excellent
inside the smooth nearness
of its dark skin;

my hands make quick fingers
into nice fists of daylight
catching the strummed humming
of its string sound–borne over
the mouth of a mountain–
vibrates and intense.

i walk and the chilled asphalt
is the tiny sound of my feet,,
these halls of night
a rembrancer
and so newly full of nothing
stink with rose and thyme.

i am alive–
i hurt to love and to love
is hurting; my dear i love you
i told you a thousand times
(and a ****)

i'm sorry because both.

i will live
–i guess maybe–
or i will die becoming
worm pursued eating
the earth as eating becomes
me

the            new          grass

which
(freshly cut)
grows under
the house

of your body.

supping from
cups filled
with ill
darkness
the demon
on my
back
lacerates my
fleshy
shell
as he shifts
his horror

we stand athe brittle brink.
a plummet waits just over
the
     edge
rupture the breeze and
flutter in my arms like the
love birds cluttered wings
             (we could be)
a union perfected with sweat
mixing salty pools on our nakedness.
give into the drop of rationality and be
the instrument of my heart and i will
play

                                 you

you remind me fingers deep(wetly plunging
kindler sparks

                              and

                                            the


                        complete



                                            collapsing

                           of


                   silence


softly meets, firmly, parting

slippery

coils

in briefly blushing. cheeks perhaps thighs, or)
fingers: your reminder
sets pale tinder
cloven
electric tender

you  are   the    most ardent summation
of the *** cells blistering in a womb
to spit on my skin your fragrant
  
        god

odoring perfection like the trembling husk
of a bloodless heart sleeve worn wearing: the tears streak absolutely"
dust me with the slivers of your sorrow
and i will lead you to the cleft of my stupid limbs
where all melancholy will cleanly disintegrate

                              morf
your so special frame. i love thee. do thou love mE?