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

cream the soft you are is body
white

             shoulders


completely neat in kissing
easily blades

between muscles rigidly
tight and folding

                 folding


          and

fi


              n


     ger


                                s



yoursmine
teeth please too
a bit at least
because cream

the body soft

you are

is hurt nicely pleasant
and you know


                 (like i know)



pretty is pain

Either is the sun a bloodless folly trapped behind the mask of clouds? Only whispering its voice in errant brushes.

wind?(do you complete      
                                                
                                          the night strangely
                                                
     ylteews come sreferp  
                                                
                                          hairlipped blue eyes and satin
                                                                  
     gawking dellips hair          
                                                    
                                          with downy sable
                                                                  
                ruf  wired  dna          

                                           split
                                           eagerly
                                           thighs
                                            )

                                            A ****** parenthesis(waiting to be filled

i d
on
't
want your
words

give me your
(sound/taste/touch)s

they say
so much more
than your
oral
vibrations
ever
could

what stands the sea on completely edge?

the roots of mountains very deeply into keen waters steaming. (like boysmen


at the shriveled inch
of girl *******



                                          )like
      ­                                        ,
        
                                            like      .l

      ­                                                    i

          ­                                                k    e the way intensely quivers
                                                         ­           grass to grow
                                                            ­        in plumes o' green and waxy

                                                           ­          the way smells
                                                          ­           the teeming
                                                         ­            of a city
                                                            ­         harshly
                                                         ­            into
                                                            ­         1
                                                              t­hgit
                                                            ­laturb
                                                          ­fist              
                                              ­        swelling
                                                ­                  to strike

                                                         ­   . A meadow where sleeps girls in the colours of Spring,



                
                                     ­                                                                 ­     '



                                                            ­                                                ,








       ­                                                                 ­                                    .

one eternity awaits the final heavy lidded collapsing
                   breath;

coldly biting beautifully night your neat painful skin when with my lip parted softest child meets makes a rapid tinly uncoiling crystal nimbus who catches in the amber poolsof your still naked body's streets

milkwhite,

                           you're so. and

warm sticky

'round each finger

thick and
white and.
your stomach is

                                         cream

it is bitter an
D soursweet  
it feels like dough
firm and it froths
with writhing muscles Milk

.






























"What have you been doing these days?"



"Trying to become myself."






























.

O creators
  O makers(O ye, who by hands deftest,
    hew the earth with thy hearts
      extrapolated)thou art blessed

           (and a blessing)

for by the imperfect notions of you
more perfect becomes me

             (in me gathers
              the coalesced
              intensity of
              your exact
              infinite stuff)and
                                             i
                                             'm thick with your heady music
                                             which bursts out my body
                                             and i'm flung into burning
                                             indomitable human fire
                                                  (and i become
                                                   like gargantuan
                                                   sleeping flowers(whole rivers of them)i become the
                                                   hot sigil of the human singing
                                                   *****)with drunk beautiful darkness
                                                   i sing across the folding eternal
                                                   abyss and with merriest volition
                                                   i add the coarse sound of my fracas
                                                   to the body of the electric people
                                                   chorus
                                                                 (the makers
                                                                                        and the creators
                                                                                                                      who by pleasing distinct
                                                                                                                      colorful blades scar
                                                                                                                      me wonderfully
                                                                                                                                                  )

my almost body does
through nearly hands which
deep reeds–the naked bottoms of rivers;

wide spans eagerly of ***
wist twisting
the curv'd blade
of their
hot in June mouth's
(legs arms)

occaissionly
sweating
swept in
the resin
of warm rain;

(a universe is here between
the hairless bulb of every fertile's
crescent )

a dangerous slenderly perhaps
of open lips
reeling furiously
with starlight

(outside summer is a hot blab
on the pavement can be heard
the clip-clap of a horse goes
lathered in tremendous dew)

a crocus riding
the small spring hour
of a lady

in tooo many clothes

Into with,
my ***** of sated flesh(
your smallest mossy soil...

            I AM


DEepLy,  raw
a rough new pinkness
tingling steady burstsinthegrosspavillion
,of thy beat,
a fresh hot                


                                       noise

sick f,lOu;rIshIng
                                         calamity by what abscess you **** hotly moisture
'pon the sticky damsel of
                                                   life
who art brevity greased                       or we argue

(scrawny tiffs) with god (who smells like nothings

yay though it be. still we are. if not only a morsel

i got inside you last night all stupid and naked between the rubber of your
jelly lips and licked the deliberate threads of your ribs who were littered
with my skin; the gruff shale of my livid dust got sticking in your niches
and your little secret back ways and your valleys and your mountains
and your velvet terrifically peach

night come hands
(briefly with tulips)
beneath infinitely
moon sliver
your star freckled
******* are and my
hands between breathing
cuddle and ****
funny how staggers
the curves of your
hips with silver and
gushing thick flowers

perhaps tulips perhaps
ivory and petals silken and wet
with your tongue
nightandhands coming
with ******* and pallid
and skin
(beneath infinitely tulips)

       and apple trees

the it need
you and by
febrile coarse

"****"me

the



you





your frail
uncommon
heat


it




feels
(*****)

the like
an eating of stings


feels grossly wonderful
(herking jerking wonderful)
to choke

to choke so nicely
to choke so pretty

grinning hot
a flash of sharpness:

redbeautifully scratching
me my oh why

not
   the shaking

          you


are not unlike
a very bud
split
at
the nape
of crowning

lussst

(a flower of my bed
so delicate shook

by cruel thrusting
the parting;

                      hip's crook

                                             )

Rigid, unlike, softly, more like, she's coming a rough god riding the stocks of
bobbing withers robed in music. she's quick static spark sore tips of fingers
  just meeting with my tips of fingers just with grooves barely braying over
  one or the others me we sweetly are tumults of sparks raking ***** nails
   over backs pinions extend fully kissing free air and up into shaking
    clouds her minute jiggling abdomen i'm home there in between the beads
     of startling clarity and rush of sudden acute blissful angles (more like
      delightful swirling clutter, her hips are like) turning back and forward
       back and forward writhing sails of pleasure billowed skin her
        ultimate final tongue that staggers magnificently like a doe in the striped
         coat of furious tigers she has fanged jaws gently stabbing young
          blades my neck (a short column of stuttering electrons flickering
           against her blazing article of so unpure purely purring muscles
            slick and sinuously bound limbs an angelic fist's arm on my
             teeth suddenly flush with blood.
              
                         she is many
                     she is one
                   she is a multitude
                   she is a slight twist
                    to the hairs on the
                     the back neck   (of my)           .                  A
                                                                            neck meekly
                                                                           scratched with
                                                                              nails abruptly
                                                                        slaughtering quiet
                                                                       disheveled minutes
                                                                      in her merry cavern
                                                                                               wails

.
















                                                                                    b










                                                                                    r    e                                                                                   a





theth

e s
l
o
     w

l   y
      steam

of
      some

halfish
twinkling
infinitely pale
evening

when
out of ****
languishing
darkness
lifts
terribly its
marvelous
trundling deep
cool




                                                                                     and





the when world was
it were a
pistil
o'
the bulb
of hushingly
crushed mutest
with drabs of hulking
orange imped to 'er
******* 'er
tongue
'nd 'er
arms long
went out
like the
sea goes
out
under the moon
it goes out rushing
faster than

lungs were
the there was
and
o'er
'em was

R i B s

(

         bump


                      bUmpy

                                       bumP

                                                     BuMP

                                                                        )ribs and



a pair o'
darling ****
with
o'er 'em
a neatishly intense
girl head
with lips
it
drank the
air
in swooning
tiny
heaps









               i









                                                       t








                                                                              S










                                                                                                                   P









                                                                                                                                                                    RUNG









from
'er face
it went like
a blade goes
sharply quick
into softly         I


and took
the 'er
it
the
blade
o'
'er
cutting
i
the mouth
and (in my mouth)
cupped her kiss
instantly
which lingered
more brutally
than

b

         r




                     e


                                 a






                  t



                                       he,




                                                    .



                                    
                                   '




                                                  ,





                                    .

always nevering
she won't
will
like
winter('s) spring

little flakes
of nos
on vermilion
petals

the skin of yes
was never touched
by her lasciviousssss
tongue

come in to me, your heart
and mingle intensely
(the muss, my fragrance)
thy nostril flared

deepishly to inhale:

the pistil


(Love's rose bared)

.                                                                        like stars

                                                                         first nubile pins against darkness

                                                                         subtly quavering against darkness

                                                                         i tread amongst your hair over

                                                                         mountains i quickly unsheathe

                                                                         my soul and touch, by lewd drunk

                                                                         fingers, just the canny ribbons

                                                                         of your spine and cambered

                                                                         in my palm it does exactly the

                                                                         very painful beauty thing

i will f
            a
             l
               l in

     the

correctness of your gaze

(for only you

        shall i ever be)

the filigree embellished
by the gray stacks grown weary
to lean cadaverous shells
on the mark of scarlet's

greet the empty chamber door
swung shut a sudden eyelid
powdered tears riven ink shoulder

   who isn,t? a fear of nothing
     consumes the smooth roughness
  of

that came in a pale dress(blue)and without fingers
feeling every bud tightly closed
                                                          :
                                                            NIGHT
there's room enough
                                           just
in you for me
                              and your dress is sheer
and barely
                       i argue with it
practically because i want to
marry our skin
in2 1 body (yoursandmine)ours

                    i'll ask your ear how it likes my mouth

hot and
      
                             kissing

i'll hang it with my tongue and breath

                          i'll

with no clothing naked and vulnerable
let you have every inch
of every inch
(and i'll feed you a river of me)

that comes in no-thing
                               body bare and wanting
                               of rough hush
                               NIGHT
                               (and without feeling) fingers

what am I I don't know I think I'm a boy I grew up one time reading a book with a gun in my hand with a pellet gun in my hand I grew up a boy

what R,a;In doth make
                                       this hollow sOn


              quaking of

daughters(unflowered)                                  .     ­             buds open


           craving a tenuous meting  of flesh

you,ll find some agreeable. who shalt salt your petals.


    little whims

                                                         y  :



(your sugar is sour)

there are so many me's
which shall
i
ware
today

(?)

restless between.         all  full of


                           empty
some nothing son;      feels the silence
                                 crepting
up the legs of sound. to rapt all the noisy
with           brilliant       sheets         of quiet

it wAS i came by nervous steed
over valley and time to a stream
trickling sickly between your *******
; and it was

          it was

my mouth; and tongue: a RiveR.
questioning her skinny pride

              and taken

my limpid bride

something girl though fragile likes

     (like i like to)


                                   Hurt

lucid light
you're
far
too bright

i'll slit
your
throat
and
drink the night

i have stood where boys have stood
an hour of their body in the ground
from their backs to their hands up
pricking gently a cool stroke of wind

and each parting softly sleep stole
into the easy crush of rain, and into
the always agape lips of wanting spring

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

the day did weep and thus i bent my lips to its ear, whispering, "why do you cry so?" through crystal drips it chokes out, "because though i am born each morning i die each night. in infinite resurrection i am trapped. thus i never truly live" to this, i, having no reply, sat and cogitated

so                                                                                                                       into
this flaking night           we   went                pl
                                                                                             u
                                                                                                          
                                                                                                      n
                                                                                                         g
                                                                                                           i
                                                                                                           gn
(of winters throat )
the sallow column
                                          ofwho,sneck
i'm a gently kissing

feels like, your mouth, i like it
little hot crushed
(wettest ember of thy face)
to mine, darling, your

hair

                     is immense

tangled briefly

with my fingers

against the excelling nub
of thy fragrant skull                dear, i

press drink and of, into

                                            my

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)

i have always loved the summer who
walks through white splendor the hot
looseness of rough *** in a cheap motel
somewhere in Oregon.

i am a lot like sleeping laughter
in faintly room warmer windows
bound tightly with light's loosest
fingers mingling with the atomized
aroma of a basket of flowers dusted

                  just

with barely afternoon's short rumpled
heat glaring in through the slight
abrasion of sight I call my window
peeling with fresh strums of Summer's
fair cords singing me softly into the
palm of night's tiny hands

wh O o         Sh       ! ) the sun sprechen
a malleable droplet
of porous handles
meandering careless clumps o
               f
                                                                 a and the ghost
        of spectral
                                          mouths ephemerate
delightful femurs
                                   loaded sensual creamy morsels
some alabaster muscles singing sordid

            or a too short skirt
                                                          i can'

t              kept my skin
         burning cherry infatuating scald
i barely
              am
  real
                               at the
           pursed
                                                    eternity

          of
                                thy immense
     finite
                                                                                   coffin

in whose body fits most easily Spring: youth adorns


(petals full; stem with thorns)

it's was summer last night
unfolding silver cold pinpricks
       who's wings yawn incredibly
from the tender bruise of moonlight where we
were two 2's
basking indelibly straight lanky souls

           and we touched

usually
w   ai        t                                             ing
           ,
(usually  
                  (on the damp concrete

by the cafe                       )
                                                 a white ***** is

     spitting kneebootedthighs! in proffered nodes of pleasure
only 18
                              probably)

L
     )
          



       e
         a


      f


        :


            U

                f
               l
                i
               ck
            e
              r


                 U(
                fl
         u
     t     t
er1f
       r
       oman

                 y2

                   on
                    ea
                   r
           t

              h


               )


                  (


         (
                     )
                       me

i
  by
      the perfunctory
             noose of sleep
             am a dream alive
             with a gallon of ladies
             languid ladies in nothing
             at all ladies who taste like
             cinnamon and sugar and
             stars they taste like stars yes
             they taste like like salt and just
             a little bit in their secretly folded
             lust they've got a sweet tiny dish
             of in their betweenhips they've got
             madness and howling and a darling
             pink as bubblegum far nicer to eat than
             but you don't chew it you just use your tongue

let'
s lay our bones against each others
and grind a bit Dear

                (Dear lady)

Grind their playful angles
and if it hurts a bit my dear
         (my long Dear
                My lithe dear
                   my ample skinny little hips Dear)

well then we.ll shovel abruptly
our callous gloating hands
all about each others bodies
and barely shatter silence
    with

         our common sensual howls

.



                                                                                 you're
                                                                               all1
                                                                             1sweated out collection
                                                                           of ink and flesh
                                                                         i love that quivering
                                                                       that smell and quaver
                                                                         that pile of thighs and
                                                                           lips.they snarl and fidget
                                                                             under the corded
                                                                               symphony o' me
                                                                             and stifled nocturne
                                                                           fast and rushing slowly
                                                                         down your neck and cheek
                                                                       crumples my pink set mouth
                                                                         from which i breath
                                                                           a corpulent giddy roar
                                                                             into your pond
                                                                               scattering across you
                                                                                 such ripples
                                                                               dearly i
                                                                             do that
                                                                           totally painful beauty things
                                                                         (a doe thing pretty
                                                                       which like you
                                                                     is just)

just i

     opening

            my soul
                          
                     oD
                        and
          drawtuo
                        fumbles
                emos
                        unbright
ecnecsednacni
                             some
                                       fuckhot

                                                    magic
                                                                 peeling
                                                                                out
                                                                                        the innumerable
                                                                                                                      jeer
                                                                                                                             of my
                                                                                                                                         and me
                                                                                                                                                        deepest

blood monthly baby
you're so copper

        (and tang) baby

you taste a little bit
like glitter baby
you taste like sugar
and pain
dear you taste like
a petite river of gold

(you climb down into
my mouth dear
and past your lips
clean digs straight
my probing practical
tongues invulnerable) your

hot scarlet drinking
bold **** baby
(i like it when your
tips barely nails
,almost cutting my
scalp nails,
pull me even tearing
deeper
             into
                    you
             )

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.