i love you
i hate you

i hate you
i love you

i love you




i love you

open me your hands
fists cruelly which
their tightness conceal


                                                  a
   ­                                            Slender
                                                 blade
                                            Of
            ­                                         spring

                                        In

             ­                                                heat.


                      (a cut distinctly of certain cuteness bleeding)A


dolllike limpness
of stiff
cherry breaking.



                                 a branch of sometimes petal bearing stems.

                                                  (a kiss and roughness)

            Open me them
                       there
                   slightness
                       will
                  bare
                            a span
                of
                      lewd innocence.


a strip of easy with parting rain which sometimes in April feels like dying
feels like pusshing apart of lips, hot redness, and ***** of steep fuzz.

at last again the dying

(this prickish

         the soft and)

Spring is to hotter

(body are

            the


                  more     )

become in Summer


        


          (a tongue)

of such heatness to move
articles of fun
to disdissemble gorgeously

they

's

shoulders fiercish cumly

and they's

muscles pointed
waists
attenuated
to hipish
widely spend


(that where

where spends

my wonder

to wonder where

what under there

is what underwear

                                    )

think
i hope
it's
skinny

it's
thin
neon easy

to "please"
too "please"
hot too
"please" to

remove please

on your knees
(please?)


in Summer where
under there
wears
an itchly urgish
to bare

the clefted fold
in freshly cloven 'air


in (the)
dying (Spring time)
the (only) pretty (ring time)


When Birds Do Sing

collapse the husk of sin with the
lucid dirt caked better and more.
all about your cascade. and bleached
serenity stiffly decaying. a grave calm
in the ******* of untold lovers. to be
cadaverous an apathetic magic.
seems it to me the sky was blue but
cracked melody of ruffled gray
hips sprawled exactly on its
electric lips to tickle precisely the accurate
giggle of rainbow fuzz.  hush now delicious
day and break staggeringly on the luscious nightmare.
   A lusus naturae  said "why not dip the razors in your

                        purity to slit the rhythmic shudders
of your
                   vermilion  music. but anon hither it doth
come and merry it will slander with the clouds?"

  slither correctly it wAS  in the ponds of streelight ******.

      begging white palpations to the weak skin.

            but flustered in wickedly; in her still column
of hot ice. i loved only her.

'sometimes

         sometimes"
sometimes i am like
                             the
                       crinkled edges immutably
shattered leaves of grass. frail walled
towers quickly evaporated patrons.

i(n the fields comes the pale scythe. call me to
the lady death and number me among her sons.
a new sorrow so ancient unremembered eternal,   )

     sometimes we are like:
the vein heavy throbbing perfect union of skin
i don't want to leave her naked cradle. basking
in the dew of her impenetrable

             somEtimes she is like an ideal
unparalleled goldenbrown olive symphony cascading
rhythm glints onto the sudden gasping heart kiss blessed
cheek i wear worn to her constant lip strokes]

sometimes

                     sometimes

    sometimes i am like the rain

and dead is.
                daed
             si balmy june silver moon welt so ugly beautiful.

dead is sometimes always. always sometimes and dead is.
      dead is smiling white cheek mucous coughing blond
darkness and.
         ;dead it's the livid miracle of carnal soil by bones
distinctly scented of muscles. it's dead is autumn dancing
   a ragged yellow corpse crunching of the naked souls
**** hearts pounding, and dead. dead is grand
         and purple flowers cramming flavor into the loose
pocket of wind and carpals unfleshed sodden clasping
      dry mouths dusty nouns. and dead is music,
long and fat, grotesque hips chattering with taught lips
       onyx saliva belching stupid oral.

               and
                                de
              ad
                       i
                                                                                    s.

fillme
fill my
fill my hands
fill my hands, light.

i'll climb You.

i'll reach each
finger over
each finger over.

i'll climb you up
(if even tinly i'll shall
by minute courage expand
into quickly dying night
the frailness of my body
and i'll clamor
i'll tip
sinuously

up

into thy strayingest brightness
my cup
and it will run over with you

it will burn
and, by a thousand strokes of brilliance,
it shall teeter briefly invincible

on awkward skinny youth
it shall stumble deeply radiant folding

each star folding
manifold upon
manifold upon
manifold upon
folding each star

into the hottest crimp:
a kiss foibl'd                         )

clumsily boyness hands
imparting with love most earnest

that spangle will

and climbing fingers
over each
into

that hurt
will sharply round
rib after rib

till reaches
(in burning Cupid's fiercest glow)

my destroying weakness
with the strength of your inimitable lips

what like eternal do returning oceans
feathered slightly
whitely capped
by lashes great
like eternal final hands
seas unbroken
outward sprawling

i

come again tonight
big waters
i come to thee
o
   ye
        of effortless forever
        you shake and toil
        endlessly hands
        you drink me
        finite infinitely
        into your inky
        scrape on the
        horizon winks
        the dapper twinkles
        of red and green
        lights little buoys
        bobbing lights
        little winking
        twinklers seize
        me in eternal
        hands returning
        fingers about me
        hands eternal
        (i stand upon
         your breadths and upon them i'm an immutable dying sting)

i nearly do think

               and dream upon

the wiggling human stuff
the chaff and bile
the sugar and kisses

       i neatly do collect my

unmean thoughts on the
elliptical burning teeth
of life(wherein reposed
days are languished
and animated)i take

                each trembling

hollow vesicle of common
people things and crop
about them me and my
particulars

                    i
do think and bumble
i marvel and revile
(and i should think
after knowing
                          but i
                                  don't
                                          know
                                                 A thing)

Darkness,
                                                                                                           in sometimes
                                                                                                           sitting aming
                                                                                                         areing
                                                                                                             ising
                                                                                                                   i'm
                                                                                                             from glades
                                                                                                          of chastely tiny
                                                                                                         beads pink
                                                                                                      about
                                                                                                                my eyes
                                                                                                      immeasurably
                                                                                                              welt slow
                                                                                                    moisture
                                                                                                             at this
         very




























































­

















                       a.

kiss me
with
those
bleeding lips

i
sweetlycrimson those
             c
            h
              e
            e
              k
            s
of a porcelain daughter
              h
               a
              n
               g
               i
               n
             g
in the splendored languor
  of a sugar light
dusting her
  with a powdered kiss
exact t
         e
       a
          r
s
rivulet down her soft landscape
           i give my
sinew strewn arms to a clutch
about her gentle a
                                 r
                                   c
                                  s
as her quavering tremble
gasps

a

broken

her skin was
like mine
(only with a
different;sameness

making her Perfect: ugly)
so choosing
that:

i thought light was
yet it
heavy/dark

weighs
on crystal thoughts. from which no light escape

-s

luscious corpse meadow salvation
wet waxy journal scrawled generous

be straight narrow crooked armor amour
fractured ferrous magnetic skin
dry husk sheathing thee: she spun metallic

so, yes, i will



                       but just this








                                                                                                                          once

thathathathathathathathat
perfect
perfect
perfect
perfect
i
n
kee­ps me in
-side its enormous tiny
ica
n't say noto
those folds
-avage
flavor
that perfect pink

go hearts
you trip from chests
burst and rolling beautifully

extend and bend you yield
and fold impose
into empty

space your
clever face petals slink
and lance mine delving into

their right between crease
excellently that
impervious

tongue to mingle and marry
with my own voracious
love drunk
string

i want you really

             really

a shiver and totally
beneath tremble and
quivering bruised or
pristine but all laced
in spit and **** A
where my love fist can
bed softly blooming
at your unfurred palette's
twain crawling

           with

up your thighs a dark
smudge like shaped a
bear paw right next to
your knee laminated
by eager oral's lewd
serpent

A where
spreads the vast treat
of your hips a garden
in which poems fail
always ever to match
struck instantly aflame

like the quiet depths of oceans untold truths riot 'neath the rouge cheeks littered city streets. but never said they fester ready blisters of ugly splinter grins. bloated granite corpse hide the sallow nicks by the bay to drink the water sick rotten wood collapsing. it heaves a sigh of tired ****** to wet the pavement with stiletto moisture. corrode merry emerald city, you wear it well.

do the dead know a thing i know they do
they know how nice nothing feels in a pile
of earth beneath sleeping in pine or up in
the air ash mingling with pollen on a
svelte summer eve sick with young hearts
hungry to **** into each other sublime
homely darling eyes with no thoughts of
what might come after they lay up into
infinite dreamless eaves their sore mouths
(but the dead know they know how nice
nothing feels like a luckier to be alive feeling
they don't know a thing (but I know they do))

her quiet
was so:
painted
every sound
obscene
(slumbering
thusly)

"It's bad for you." He said.

"I know it's bad," she replied, "but I want to do it anyway."

hurt: he's
a boy

waiting. A boy waiting and
he's
hurt
between

rib and lung(wilting). He's
a boy sometimes

and(sometimes))he's
a boy)

between rib and lung(



hurting,

         .

            '

         ;


               .



      ,




                      .




            '

life is strange i'm dying(youare)and the world is
out my window are little boats
dots
boats
dots

toandfro dots
boat
dots

little and to and fro
dots
go whizzing very slowly
outside my window

i can
a glass perspiring
at my hip
does
the wind
cooly blusters
feel

and a flower
very like is
a girl cut dribble

which grasps the air climbing
into the heat of july

a star

Skin, the
girl you're
in. sleepsso

furiously amongst
the roots of chaste flowers

i twould
(to loose by touches febrile)
the flock; your gabled arch

unroost so mightily
tempests even would swoon

(and sodden every desert parched)

come laughing sun
(the earth likes you

             thighs akimbo

it pulls down hotly on
it)
                 into it

the earth and sun
       they are like for restless
             lovers they tussle
                         and ****
                                 those 2 tongues
mingle and bind
   my body and me
      1 to the other
        (like the earth on sun
         )but nights pretty 2
                                            2
                                  Pretty night
                       sometimes U got me
                        wanting you got me
                          (and i do))iwantyou)cuz you're so deep and speckled glimmering
                                                               (and in your chest you've got
                                                                that one enormous bobble
                                                                so lush and radiant it pulls
                                                                my cheeks leaping
                                                                up to meet its softly
                                                                and every all of me
                                                                shatters smoothly set
                                                                forever in its boughs)

(and i am more beautiful than dying is forever. i am like impossible unbroken light. in the moon and O,
                                                                                                                                                                                .
                        
                                                                                                                                                                                      '
                                                                                                                          


                                                                                                                                                                      !)

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

what hands
these are

(are these

hands

) ?

what hands are these?

(on tainted wrists
dripping hot melodies
over her pallid shell;
i put my lips to its
understanding but
the

flavor: lick lick lick lap

like

i

do

)

thus

let me just stumbling through finite health and glib, sturdy, night gather you up into immortal fleck of dying perfect girl(whose hair, swiftly annihilators, many short and wonderful dark, smells like living, balmy, and dirt)like the moon, drawn exactly round against the nape of common onyx heaven. And, i, carefully stupid
shall impart

                                            deliberate

                                  clumsy

                                                               ­    boylips

heaped i
with dirt shall
produce a babe
(greenly a thousand
****** against the sun
will stand against his heat
)a shimmer gently child
of softly hair mostly
a body innumerable
so thick with verdance

            (and
                i will
           laugh
               and say,
       "was there ever any death?"

how do i explain this?
well, trying, i say
this: it is hard not to let my inner self  breach the skin of my outer self

thus revealing some of those things i would rather not show

nary the further root(nor nearer neither)shoots
reaching similar jeering your carnal fold whoops
a crown of pink, whose gentler thorns enshrined
the meekest cruel sweetness of with mouth combined
posits a slender abrupt howl from the heaving
noose of abdomens 2 backed seething
(a beast twained)
or so sayeth William

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 ******

rush nites
through trees and belly
(come find me dreaming
and when you get here
i'll kiss you so softly i'll
plant roots stupidly
growing into your so
and green skin lightly)
you got big pretty enormous

           Jewels and **** nite

you are belong to my bed
and flesh(yourown)is mine

i've spangles and dirt in me(likeyou)
                                                                 nite
                                                             i
                                                           got
                                                         leaves and merry drunk revelers
                                                  prancing beautiful women things
                                               (and i like to bunch up their hems
                                                 (like you nite) and i like to
                                             eateth them)

& and of this swooping          twilight
i might say it
is it.                           one large enormity
  ,        small and tumbling
deftly clumsy                             and reposed
                          quicklyquietly
in succulent folds of mauve silence

'pon                                           the imminenthills

outside my window

which are you? Thou who art mostly scaled in fears
Of little rotten skulls)
        & the blundering mystery
of the big dark deepest deeply reaping darkness.thefingerofgod
    the thumb of god
                                   '
               between them our souls are writhing as he PLUCKs
them from our carnival
our    really big uncouth faces
. that he tickles in our sleep with dry
          and wet puffs of languid
fire He drizzles from the right heart
          in the wrong chest of men
Who like to act all nice and sweet
          but aren,t probably either
at all or maybe just a wee little itybity (a lot);
                                                                                                  the We
                                                                                         we were weren't well
                                                                                      we're we which is glee
                                                                                      a fantasy of garbled
                                                                                       annotated cells
                                                                                        at morts nice mouth
                                                                                         at morts pert mouth
                                                                                          at morts gnashing maw
                                                                                            in it
                                                                                             we're crunched
                                                                                              by shapely spears
                                                                                               of white
                                                                                                with blatant sharp
                                                                                                  edgesinourorgans
                                                                                                   sleeping in our
                                                                                                    thresh of hours
                                                                                                     the silver merry
                                                                                                      scythe man
                                                                                                       puts us in a box
                                                                                                        and we lay real
                                                                                                         still and moving
                                                                                                          not even the
                                                                                                           most little bit
                                                                                                            we stay like
                                                                                                             that we stay
                                                                  &n

straddle nothing crumpled jilt. i'll sticky light and call you in a morning

i've some power fingers terribly monstrous
knuckle deep in

hair too,thickhair

in bunched fist

strung tighter

pulling
pullling tighter(and from where parts

monsters powerfully

                                        

                                          )


wait instantly unsleeping
at a little slick with spit
lips between lips barely
teeth press and press and

monsters (unsleeping instantly)



                  ReleaseD

inside bed
groans i can
hear the rain outside
painfully wintering and
the shifts covers her (the hands between)
sighing erupt palefully spiders incandescent
the notmoon doesn't its light and outside i can hear
the rain(painfully)

i can hear

(and outside)

painfully it's rain

(and wintering)

i can hear.

are you quickness?and muscles sore from last night
when we met we inside blue softly metal(wheels adorned
and i cupped your cropped short raven finger tousled
pulling your excellent blossoming eternal face to my
finite ugly wilting face and we ate, from each furious
clasp, fruit more sweet

i say awe

                            and i say wonder

      i say whole mountains

o' fairies and clouds

  i say magic sprouting
between fingers splayed
o'er hot skin sweating
beads of sweating
little snaking streams of sweating

i sweet and kiss them
i tousle and drink them
i drink day and night
i drink fire and dirt
i'm their body

so darling dear
(dear darling so
sweating dear)
let me sprinkle you
beauty (i'll grow
a forest o' lips on
your *******)with
glitter and health

i'll stoke you purr gently
stroking dear i'll **** you
with me i'll just make y o   u,
                                              '
                                                    ,

                                        .

"oh hello"whose shoulders are easy darling *****
sloping"hey"
                      down
                                "what are you doing Saturday?"

way into ******* neatish comely pristine

"I'm"deftlywonderfulslender"going"bycalvessupple

"to a show. you?"


"probably nothing."

my blood

if

put

your in
veins
your

will pump
for me?

you

the opened not mostness of deadeyedgirls is
like life half unlife, and no between thighs stem
can make their cherry


                                            


               ­                                          po!p

it added useless
a feminine gaunt whisper
dull neckup bobble roaring

           coherent reds

of lean noodles gorgeous
The longest stupid
from her
                     blithe house

in tumbling eve
a city sweats
small vociferous
women springing
short skirts playfully
twiddling between
breaths(i run smoothly
the raw colours of
the quickly closing day
being stockinged in
blackness thickly
) hard and dull fire sprouting from my lungs

it's hard the word i'm sorry and
the clouds today
are a bit
cut of light
draping easily with so("

     i,m sorry,,

the way i've notbeen
and haven't said)

the way i love you the way i love you the way i love you. i love

and the roughness of cotton,
the blithe softly flow,
snow and petal broken;

a stream instantly chaste
between the thighs of mountains
(your coming mouth
and how many times have i remembered
the hard droll moment of your intense clovers
parting through a sea of dark leaves
the slenderest gap of life to emit
its thrilling nonsense a gown of roses?)?

i do not or have wondered
on the cutting into the hillsides roads
when driving in Summer
and the sprightly children of dandelions
tumble daftly serene

And want to **** my timid notion
amongst the thorn'd stems of your garden
(where burying is easy
and death never came from the ground
and only life was grass, and flowers, and kissing

forever

                )))(

i think i am some dust briefly flush with life who grates every moment by passing grains of limpid time and unbecomes in sheafs of days

knees go weak summer very smile

                                                                    

                    spUrts

over: two legs, skinny hips, a mile
of stomach, daintily *******, neck
and a chin(also)above sprouts a                nose

nice how it flush face with
saliently bursts ivory white 'neath
limpid fissures of greenly sharp roundness

(eyes)that flutter, held by cheeks as
smooth and innocently as driven
snow sparkles just a bit in the summer
between the **** hillocks of my
thighs a mouth pristinely admits

      me

when i've tripped a star
whole over night
the silver flinging
of its crispest muting has

a daughter shed
of lightness
eyes its
their
teetering upon
perfectly easy winking

and her hands are so
they feel like
like when
night is so long
and hot it
stifles moving into
a pinch of stillness contained

by the exactness of my square room
struggles to retain

that lovely burning
o' 'er
splendor splitting

wings so gentle
i painful pinning

have neatly to keep
their body's wonder
to my sheets

sweat so glowing
as like the yowl
of dying day
it cleaves easily
darkness

and it rises 'pon
love after
love it
soars

your hands in sunlight have often been god. And

i

have often been in love with them the way
they coilsome the body of a cup
in summer when or
(in your lap)
outside a café

neatly

you laugh

and your hands
(in sunlight)