.


















                                                              i would **** even stars































                                                                                                                                                                               .

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
             )

if do i(upon a rising fallen)
lift first myself to teeter
with breaths totally mingling
on the very subtle quiver

c
r)
e  e
  p(
in
g

and up the face of brevity
to one eternally beginning
(in were mounds of poppies
who vaulted swiftly blood
to swim upon your face

shall die who not
of Spring always?

not grass or leaves.

not the sea or
the tragically rapid
wings of
hottish wind.

not the rocks
or the
trimmly light locks
of crimson eve.

not the fit splendor
of the night
or (the who)
of, "why not?"

when shyly asks
of boys, girls ,
to part them

(in twain of pleasure's hutch
  

   )         (              where



      ,        like of Spring        ,


dying is not so

as vermillion becomes of touch     )

petals tinier of spring silken wet
doused of pink innumerabley
minute death litter the banks
of a river where reeds bending
in wind laugh breath grow die

              by

the quick ankles of deer who
in downy copse eat the blood
of earth and startled by the
rustle of foot and twig straight
burst out bounding their skin
taught and lathered in spring
tiny minute dying spring by
petals silken and wet

by what courtesy of some small voice does the city speak,

little and so much

it says, "by the way have you seen the old man in
his tired skin,

goodbye,

waiting next to the young drunks so loud underneath they are so loud and not a whisper can escape ,  "

the city, and it talks too much it

cannot be heard

over its own
voice
          .

life: instantaneous impertinent eternalwhose tedious aroma i'm madto eat life of screaming mute intense fragilitya flower most able of petalsupple and vibrant liferugged rough svelte and lushlife in each singing morsel i exalt thee with every effort of my skill

rain come


rain come so youare

wet rain so


so nice and
so pretty and
so. Rain,

would you
part your lips
entering me.                 And



rain, would you curl upon each smoothness kiss?

rain, you are so grey. rain, you are so wet. rain, you part your lips entering the sea and your chin wobbles hardly a bit swallowing the hard inch of the city rain your cheeks are a bit like trembling and when they are full of the city you look up and with your entering lips parted shining wet you cry




                                     Rain

from a long girl, drinks a glass
of some short chilled evenings
ringed in dapper night coming
purple, big, over everything her
fair lunging breath in flowers
sweetest smelling, dark, and
sleeping. pollen, laughter, ice
in a long girl, drinks a glass of
smoother softness in slow
light, dying, faster than a
short chilled evening (next to
a somewhere park, trees, and
a dog barks

i got like 1 heart(red,electric,stupid)
pulse many till sleep long one dark
infinity, till then pulse 1 heart
red, electric, stupid hotly at the
arcuate hip, the comely mile
of a vermillion smile, the
fling of girl face bright
young perfectly
finite that into
dust tumbles
moment
before
moment

did i a human thing completely graze your cheeks and of them
eating did i lush with shoots and stocks and because wind
snarling in their delicate snuggle of **** drunk flesh
just the very juice of your berries did wine from them
throng into my throat a terrible and army lovely
? I have been under you when caved out your billowing ******* indispensably
and growled from your lips a shout of candy and burrowed into my
slippery vibrations the nuzzle distinctly your just shorn and delicious
cradle.
             yes

o dear meeting you was o dear i can't say it wasn't hard to speak it wasn't so hard to i can promise you that it wasn't to hard to speak and because dear your muscles and because dear your skinny wrists and because dear it wasn't hard to talk it wasn't and dear at meeting you it wasn't because:


                                    "for all the pouring of my lips contain'd:
                                     (the words of my body) were
                                      ,by your lips,
                                      in defeat retain'd."

a short america is gruffly and shouting with the britain who's is owns the metal caffeine *** dull and shiny they suckle about and like to rambling  about the weather and the whethers and they clump to safely dryness by the wall at the little under of the eave plunking out the serious angle of its chin walloping the rain and makes a pleasant patch. they 2, the america and the britain, spitting at each others ears their voices they like to hear

today the sun was in everything
shimmering without cease
with seamless jointless fingers.
the massive ginger
of his unfleshed hands
prickles (barely) necks.

.































                                ­                     O
                                                      yOur
    ­                                                    mOuth
       ­                                                   issO
         ­                                                      hOt

               (inside it feels)

                                                sometimes­tight

                                                          ­and
                                                             ­                      O
                                                               ­                 it dOes

                             when

                                                  Springtim­e
                          
                                    ­                           draws 'er

                                                            ­               pretty 'ittle
                                                          ­                                
                                ­                                                                 ­    nOOSe

                                                          ­                                                    acrOss

                        
                           ­                             yer neck
                                                               (jerks)
        
                                                ­                                                             and parts
                                                           ­                                                  (wetly)
                                                         ­                                                     light

     ­                                                                 ­                                        and
                     ­                                                                 ­                        (life)
                                  ­                                                                 ­                                        intO darkness

                                                       ­                                                                 ­                            strays.

i love the slender branches singing and the sun crisping the disheveled songs mixing in the wind's palms. shatter softly sunlight on the meadow of my flesh.

it was the velvet of the cool light. tugging on the dark sun. like singing the nothing touched every ideal and came whispering to the flowers. and


                                    BLOOM.

how i came by
this lush trickle of vocabular erupting passion
   i electrically shovel

  in
          digital grunts
i
   kno

                ,w
not
                                only
    

                   i           :T,s

HA'b,i:Tu
                       a
l l
          y

all things build slowly

slow building

into 1 slowly,

all build

all say 1

1 say all

into 1 say

all building

all slowly

all say

all 1

1

the world
(who shall by nothing easily break)
will eat the seed, my body
and of it forest make

where shall girls
in little nothing
wander

                  lithely


(a tiger amongst
                                )
and foals will
burst their mother's womb
and life will breath
from even dark-set tombs

laugh whole mountains                 ,

you got sinews deep as

rivers in you(they’re sle

eeping down there in y

ou and they fan out toA

narrow hairless delta)an

d that’s where i am

Remind me when i am dead
how searing a day in the summer
feels on the back of your neck
being bent over a flower
from the earth up
with my nose
tasting it
slyly
Remind me when i am dead
how stings the frigid moss
of frost on the roof of car
when i have to get up
early and i forget my
gloves and barely
fingers over it
go and it
burns so
coldly
Remind me when i am dead
how electric your fuzz
blunders over my
thighs as you
kiss down
my chest
to root
my
Remind me when i am Dead
what the chords of music
taste like crescendoing
in a small quiet room
as the sun slinks
through the
slats in
darkness
Remind Dead when i am me

of you there is me just a fraction
which though a fraction just does
multiply wonderfully spilling you
full of a hard incessant easy thrill

(a pink headed girl whose perfectly
folded hips are suds completely of
my hips eager to feel their droll hammer
)
  
                                                                        behind a restaurant
                                                                        murdered of thought
                                                                        she divides uncanny
                                                                        thickness a nice ******
                                                                        impetuous tattoo on
                                                                        her neck tastes like
                                                                        the rude blithe mystery
                                                                        of life performed in
                                                                        rhythmic cadence
                                                                        with just a fraction
                                                                        of me which just
                                                                        though
                                                                                       only
                                                                        a
                                                                        fraction

                                                                                     multiplies

awe in sometimes stillness is
the connotation of infinity
whose splendored temporal verses
snugly fold my mind
into the breathless divinity
of each careful line

Of her, the softening strength of hair her minute bowl of light is so majestic. Cleverly upon her shoulders and making little creases her lips break the flaccid cheeks and. Maybe I will kiss them

a ****** dint of silence was bulbous in a long fettered common
that thrashed calmly hues of slippery wind
being largely small
the city chortled deeply
and it was barely exploding with rapturous clinging
a loose sheet of normal night
                                               ?

i was driving the other day there was a short stop and a face was quickly past in an instant face
Was young blithe pastoral
imped with with the pleasant razor
of a grin face
was girl
With tiny darkly cropped few her
cheeks
had twin splotches of
fat rouge her
was lips
RED
glimmering

&


                                           laying
                                          in(justskin
                                                             you there
                                                                                  just are
                                            a lot
                                                 o
                                                  f
                                                               what i like to kiss

O life, darling fatal life
gives of cloven earth
in vagrant summer
the pretty tempest of
because girls
rust centered, copper hewn
in sundresses
on a street corner
the lipping span
of deepest health

oto
****
insideyo
uthe
hours
ofm
ybody
wouldbe
(ohpl
ease
won'tyo­u)
themost
dying
wonderfully
to
unbe

this whole self
1 thing: i
so richly
in language
sinewed
will to say
a flower

a fully
uncoupling
hot bud
and i am a
season
(like Spring is)

i am a spit of
verdant boiling
fire(and i open

my chest

and out
ruptures

petals,

   .
       ,

   ,

"I guess–I don't know–underneath it all I'm just a romantic. I've loved (I will always love), and I suppose when I'm dead someday that will only be what's left: some vague echo of a moment I shared with someone. But really, and truthfully, I loved them in that moment.

And I will live, who knows how long, but I will live and I will carry in my heart those moments. The tasting and touching of those moments. I will hold them in my heart, and in my own way, I will always love them. Each one. Each moment and tongue.

It is sad and it is wonderful–that I got to have any of them at all, and that I got to have none of them. But that's probably on me–I'm not always the best person.  

I don't know, I guess I'll just keep trying. But please know I loved them. All of them, in their own way.

I'm sorry for who I am. I'm sorry if I ****** up. I just wanted to be happy. I just wanted to taste someone's skin and live.

Maybe tomorrow I'll die. Who knows.

Anyway, I love you. Goodnight."

fade don't ever lips let
tresses of your green
spoken face in words
as soft as leaves in summer's
thighs they gowned in
shimmering gleeful noon
drawn into cool shade a
tree was by the window
next to my sky's legs languidly
coating in thickness always
gooey slender limbs
always long and lean
and leaning near my
window:

                    (A summer has always been the season i have been to kiss you
                     in the subtle light of a motel in Eugene Oregon i made love
                     to you in the slump of polyester sheets about the naked church
                     of your crimson and your deeply Holly sage petals almost
                     exactly like nothing like winter you are so hot you would
                     melt steam(

the world fits most easily in rain between
the close thighs of light
eking just slenderly

one ephemeral rill of ****
penetrating
to eagerly spill
dawn.

                 (the though world
                   in rain fits just
                   in just the loose tenseness
                   of muscle unbounding
                   from bone, wide
                   )with
                    a sliver
                                of
                            neat

                     ssenlriG

Spring, that whose every year is its last
and whose death always is the promise of its birth:

you pink between,

you softly to part,

you to come of flowers lathered,

you are a mystery.A cute curving mystery,
of slightly undeath.

a curt cutting mystery,
of increasing unhealth.

you're whose *** the mound of wreaking,
the confluence of hips,
and the pourn of roses, gardens.

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

of stink

heart, it's
by you the

     such does:

rainfingerskissingsunlight.     the

**** gentle,

and the winsome easy.


(heart) i
have climbed
by the steep winter
of your ribs,

into the crisp tumult
of cringing heat

my hands to make
(in your nakedness

    ,trembling,

)a coo


to halt the quivering of your stomach
at my entering sound. (that


**** baby

i want to
fill you, and

please       not

to hurt you when,

baby,


i love you
and because (he( u )art)
i don't want to i'll

stave the eagerness
of rain

to


pour.

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

                                               by stems fragile aching

                       LAVENDer

and



                marigolds 2

                                           were

                                                        there

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

T
  u
      m
           b l
               e stunning river. mouth agape.
spectral honey. cleanly delicious wet. all quivering!
a 1,000 times lapping sickly sweet fork tongue:
(amongst the roots claim your hollow sanctity
  
               )
i am under your dampness, you roll splendidly on my hips;
            hot valley
carve a quiet scream in all the dainty ruckus. tickled
pink soft stream.                            i
       drown
                     in    
                              thee.

when never i'd gone to nook in hiding the sun in their puffy titanic pale
the clouds of spring are not unlike the lips of my lover; whose splendor
grates in every and every her lazy exact muscles flush hunk of slippery
rough pink; she who art wholly more a softly thing than the big tangy
roof of spreading up over all the earth their guts of rumpled kissing
flesh the skin of my soul. which is not unlike a crust of furious dainty
cells basically cloistered knots of dna and a and nut in which is the
glorious **** of lovely symmetry that composes the entirety of her most
unfat blood corpulent sock of engorged radiating ***

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

barely in neon

and shook smoke swirling giggles

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

tingling most

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

without nearly mercy the strange brawn of sinuous boughs thickly forested thoughts. wreathing simple futile furious thoughts. wearing sluggish fatty
eyes prepondered coloured and uncoloured (right in their middles) disks
flinty gristle they're black right in the median outside inside upside downside
left and right and left. my heads wearing them and more flush with nose
and just below them it's there and just below it, lips are waiting slightly
parted waiting to guzzle sickly the ruby hard cords on your face your face
is there with lips and eyes and teeth are there on your head and hair to
is coming right out the top of your head where my fingers go amongst their
limber stocks and digging slightly digging into the pale soil of your scalp
AS YOUR TOUGH STIFF HARD FUTILE LIPS ROIL OVER MY
stupid ugly soft lazy lips, over my dumb wonderful bloodied lips

for do i remember far weight less colours

      reaming

the mute carcass of the earth
from whom perfumed life
is boosted splintering
and releases enveigling fingers nimblest shoots and toes

     who

by capricious arms smoothly
piercing slenders penetrate
hands and tongues o' demure lightness
which onto naked stillness pour
a rage of purring dawnlight

"where were you?" i was the cooly over of mouth–the wind–
that beneath which chants of ***
incessantly

the world

in pink creases of easy Spring.

makes me to lay down
in waters of thistle
and hollyhock

the crude and sinuous
vehicle of sing.

you

you are

you are a

you are a mess

y ou area mess

yo uaramess

y o u
a re a a messssssss
       you r mess
    ssem are you
me youss rae
e
    r   a
m   e
    s
y
    o
u       mess
    you
mess   are
  ss a r
e  e a me
e y
u      ar
me
you are me

a twilight swelling limped the light so graciously
resplendent the chattering twill of laughter
purpled deepening
marked    his splendid death
the sun

of your inconveniently perfect face
there 2 eyes utterly
big and effusive of laughter

almost larger
almost drunker
of beauty than the
rest of you nay never

there is of you a body
who is a divine rush
-ing river through my hands
is delightfully irridescent
with the heaped lather
of ***

i just like writing. i like it. i write and it comes flooding. it blows exploding breaths from my tips. my tips of fingers. it flies across them enormous and tiny cylinders. it comes out them and it gets stuck in my brows. tangled they spark ardently and they crowd heaven. they construct and they crowd it. and did you notice how i touch each one ably. i deftly kiss each letter and they flutter whole seas of wings. i don't know why
i should be in them. i'd not thought them pretty till i were already so loving their shapes and forms i'd not raise from sleeping if i couldn't feel them. but now i do. and they are never from me. they are always hot
and squirming in me. but i can't like what i make. it would unmake it. unmake their pretty and their deep.

letters tiny and immotile                                                  
set stilling on pages from
hands letters sit and come
to eyes from stillness writhing
into minds parting; bearing
letters hither to wither
gorgeously and boughs on
strings erupting minute
whispers trundle down
and flitting hallways
do arrive and limp through
creases barely folds in silence
crawling to sheets tousled
and bent under the carriage
of eyes and letters tangled
again eyes and letters

tangled letters and eyes
(ink and bone together bound
    )less

i like the see feel needs
the hands and
the **** maybe.

i like the sun you hot river a.

i like the by your bank cheeks,
tween the fists of Spring an' Summmer.

i like the to hold your mouth
closely tight
with my hands
and in your hair playsome
grasping an' pull.

i like the splitting of your flower to bleed.

and i like how when stillness completely is your body.

i like(and i like you)and i, like you, am

love.

it hurts too loud
my teeth
the grinding
and ****
sound pretty
when


                  GULP!!


about your throat
my fingers
fit nicely

ybab em rof tips(on it baby)

and cute the slightly
tearing of you
cotton in neon

freckles apart shaking
little brown
legs,.!