sunlight
where
your
fatal chord
of music
strains
the mute
scepter
of night
bleeds
crimsonly
a thin note
of thigh
parting
light(


                      your
             mouth
                       which
                 ekil
                      is
                         a
               turned
                         upon
                   medallion
                 ofvery
          Spring.Agape

                     T
                     o
receive

                              the


thick

                  brutal


          ***


                     of poppies

      )

ni
(ght b
ur
s
t cackling)a

w(h)iTch 'er h
e
           mw
a
       s

sofast

itw
a                     s!green


OHMY and

it
w        a                      s



t(i(gHt

.                                               the only thing we have to fear is apathy

kisses dear lady little you
(between new and familiar)
your face amorously
marks my face

with the winsome crush
o' your uncanny pair
of softest and fullest

                       lips

O, earth your heart
i(init),plant,1 seed:

my heart,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

rooting splendidly
between your lungs

does breath an ultimate
lily whom i pull to my
chest from out your
pale shoulders it marvels
on **** imperfect beating

(the stiff impossible soil
forget me in it
when last finally
all motion ceases)but till then              ,               hang me in your lips

hulking radiant fragrant lips
i will be a god in you
and whisper terrifically
your name in even immensest
consuming stillness(and the grass will eat of me; and i will be a garden    !
                                                                                                                                   '
                                                                                                                                      ,
          
                                                                                                                                                '
                                                                                                                                                
                            
                                                                                                                                                  ,
                                                                                                                                                             ,
                                                                                                                                          

                                                                                                                                                '
                                                                  



                                                                                                                                                                       .

you climbed
                        in the very abscess of my chest
              and in my empty

      unfurled
                         your grandest burning luscious dilating SCARLET

say terribly walks thighnicely shaped through immutable seconds into a hard tepid bar
and there i am because why not and she sounds a bit like a star sounds from her throat
coughs a few spangles onto the counter and she's sharp shortly cut dark and on her
face is deeply thick a scarlet splinter of love for which my mouth wants to pluck out
and push into my face till it hurts so lovely with noblood and splayed over hours
of laughing and outside to a car stumbles mirth in tight skin and against the side of
it at the nape of a soft street puddles every drop of her neck and explodes

i will die and because of you (i won't)
if you should happen to find this
(because) then, if you would please
read it; dead i might though be (of you
alive more) distinctly breathing not
awhisper nor a wisp of breath from
un(reading)eyes

                                  (this)

love

                                                                                                                               you

                                                                                                                       wings

                                                                                                                   you

                                                                                                             lift

                                                                                            feebleness

                                                                                 firmly

                                                                         from

                                                                     me

                                                                       and

                                                                           i

                                                             become

                                                 suns

                                 brightly

                    searing

       every

             second

                      you imp my back

                      you pinions you

                      bury me in flowers

                      and i am music

                      o’ cherubs and seraphs

                      played from harps

                      stroked by your nimble

                      feathers; love you

                      carry me to your mouth

                      where i kiss and kiss

                             and

                        ki

                               s

                            s

                                    and

                            k

                 is

                             s

                                              k

                                   i

                                           s

                                      s

elle n'est pas one hell
of an elle in does
brightly chafe with
dower stocking removal
hastily into thigh as thigh
does improbably hairless
Glide into petite grande
pink pretty pinched heaping
of dryless ****** helping
of **** help needing

A quick drizzle of angles that
unsuddenly with immortal pairing
bare the rude stem of Spring–

which cannot unbarley but to shreak
the tiniest whisper of "please into my
house enter the deepest blooming
of red red red steam   "

being i just could only
that at
the naked perfume
of her
seeping incessantly laughter
but to boom as wide and cloyingly
drunk with open health

as God had said
making the world
by one word: she

said not one word
(making my world)
but two,

               "**** me"

"The only reason I haven't committed suicide is because I'm terrified of death."

i love you

    (the body way)

it how
of parting does

(my own self from
   ) by its.

and when
it arrives
with my mouth
your lips the
whole fracas
of inept manness
cleaves into
stupid parcels
of needing to destroy

(withlove)

the  vambrace
of holding by loose cotton
chaste meadows of unreeling self–

where into will sojourn
the ***** promise of
each flensed second
of dying youth

(and make in there,

something living


(something vast ))

"i've examined the threads of reality and come to a different understanding of things"

(it was like that That i came to this me that i am currently;

shines tonight the particular pearls furiously star in eve's deepest *****
just youth and hinted whitest rawness stabbing the sharp air of frigid streets
(i won't walk with you. this is not my place. but i will see-- i will hear

the suns a small fist in its gray stocking weeping steadily bent tears of light. i whisper it my eyes and eat the lucid muscles of its limbs.

frail, are you so
pale neat and
thin

          wrists

curled wrists

with unsudden
invincible lust
crawls up each

                                                          

                                                    and




soft feels aquiver
stomach struck
by split folding

    (tonguelips)

into folding split

pink as nothing

FIRST:


i could say i have lived

(i have lived
and i could say)i have


SECOND:

i am myself(i am not myself).

i walk.
i walk and i am not myself.

i walk and the world becomes around me;
becomes neat around me (i walk).

each leaf of me parts. i am myself. i am not myself.



THIRD:

A boy.

A boy is me (i walk).

A boy is me i walk and each leaf of me parts becoming.

Parts becoming and leaves.

each instant less, and more.
each instant less and more.

each instant.



FOURTH:

i walk and by the way do you know me?

do you know me(?) and by the way i am boy.


i walk each breath of me parts the world becomes me around neatly it does part around me each breath and i walk.





FIFTH:

i walk. and do you know me?


i walk (and do you know me?)



i walk.

i need:

you
are
what

the vicarious sky
was manying a
1 basic rains
on the copper ridiculous twilight

to die? i think it is appropriate
that you should less of striving
body into the vast littleness of
nokissing, lips never, and ivory
bare of the candor of your muscles
spokes of whitest, spindles become
and dust

                  lastly

a rankling note of 1st light
lazyed through the rush of blinds
slowly
or my window was
it was
outside
drooping everywhere                            ,
                                       winter

.                                                                                            i
                                                                                               have stood in right fields
                                                                                                 looking thickly dark up
                                                                                                   at sky blue sun cloud and
                                                                                                      ***** steeply careening night
                                                                                                        digging little graves
                                                                                                           a 1000 1000 little graves
                                                                                                          burning tiny tombstones
                                                                                                         and keen with every hair
                                                                                                        on end lifting up my eyes
                                                                                                       to fornicate with the dainty
                                                                                                      fraction of frailing day's
                                                                                                     curving head
                                                                                                   i
                                                                                        drank
                                                                            of its corpse
                                                                         and was like
                                                            living and unliving
                                                flesh bone *** and magic
                                                  of dust and salt tasting
                                                     wind by the elbows
                                                     of incessantly skin
                                                   ocean stars spring
                                                    (and winter was
                                                   there but barely
                                             and it was almost
                                         warm and i pulled
                                       the loose leather of
                                         my jacket a little
                                        and
                                              





                                            )

there is a shape you are
the shape of a
cool
cool river
on a hothothot
summer summer

summer summer
day
day
day
day

(liquid cool;crystal between
the heap of your femurs
there is a tight tight
song of inside           ) i can and can you

hear
the slow and droop
of your crystal body
twinged with the caressed
lance of
awful day     (Let's Night) .


there is beach out there i have been to in the summer with you let's go

T'what

death do i owe this living:
hot kissed sweating backs of knees the lick of tired grass drab waves of summer moonlight laughing outside a bar hands full of mouth eyes ******* and constantly the droll hammer of absurd youth


                             ?



(Portland was like that)


hung flesh
with the hot flush
of freshly ******
girllips

;

because i don't know why, the stars.
purred furiously with sky
deep with purple and ambrosia

came the licked in dawn
of orange and white husk
split at the collar–
leaking black wine
rain and occasionally


love

.




















































                                              "I just want you to know, I care about you a lot, ok?"














































.

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

                        a bird sings

dirt over clean

                           sweat lovers

sting
              and
                        sting

precocious                                                                                                                  ,
a hippolyte was tugging
the cleft of night and day
she sweated finely
a colour
slowly
nigh

i have a most thing
it is very

and when it is
there is a rushing

it feels sometimes
its mouth does

i think itchy with
its stomach has

or its ribs

but most
it is mine

it is very

its lips are and teeth
(i kiss them)

they look so
and me

oh dear
my heart goes

this thing most
of
is
and very
it's so
most

i can never have more
than less
of as much
as i'd
like

"After we die the only real thing left of us, the only real fragment of the person that we were, is not the children we had, not the pictures taken of us, not the random trinkets we gathered over our lives–it's what we wrote down, what we said about ourselves. That lives and breathes. That speaks beyond our lips to say at any moment after, just as we were in that moment. Writing then is the very serious work of living. It is the chronicling and preserving of ourselves–it is the task of immortality.

And like all such tasks it ultimately fails. Only, it fails more accurately."

if you're've been the aching

the

occasionally slender

drawl mouth

of

p
e
r
h
a
p
s                                                             :


've you become
my hands
beneath
the
ta
b
l
e                                                             in


a tired
cafe´









                                                                                                                                (t
                                                                                                                             uck
                                                                                                                          ed in
                                                                                                                      to the s
                                                                                                                                 e
                                                                                                                                a,




                 "sunlighttreesyourhandsandgodbetweenitallyourhips"


                                                                .

in fairest spring,I,

         standing

    interposed

              twixt

     lightanddarkness

feel

         Raw

            fragile



                invulnerable

You stand very close to me I can
feel the heat from your skin it leaches
into my skin I am breathing (smallly)
your breaths as you are smallly
breathing mine my hand accidentally
touches your hand I'm (not) sorry I
wonder are you sorry I touched your
hand very close to my hand and I
would like to touch it I would like to
taste you between the near wetness of
your lips and drink the fair vial of your
health I wonder why do you stand so
close to me I hope it's because you
want to accidentally touch me 2.

catching yourself, did you ever catch yourself catching yourself catching
one distinct ember of an instant and let it burn so lovely into you down
into you into your very deepness welling between every sense perfectly
eternal and agonizingly brief?

a glum thickly dolloping gray today to day i say this day i say today today
   (a lip is twice as thick when knuckles tumble rumble numbly bumble
over pearled lengths of ivory smearing in his gobbing gabbing moral oral
    silence bruising orifice)
in class
               listening shortly
                                           to hard and bitter wafts
                                                                                    arrogant and nimbly shoveled
"he was 20lbs heavier than me"

within thy white
thy flesh hath fold,
where fingereds tight
and girl is told.

at how does gleam the cherry **** of your cylindric pertness–lips–i beco
    me me in two folds of self on each one pressed the drooping brand of y
       our hands stings to cooly touch with the unhinging of cottoned hurt
           ing in when the sun suddenly of gradual imperceptible dying revo
              lves on the apex of youth its own immortal youth; such dreams a
                 s magic become the ethereal toyness of your wrists that fleetly
                    stagger of whiteness with substance wholly girl with two
                       ******* wine for a mouth and darkness for hair even
                          the night is jealous at their fibers and remarks with
                             disturbed violence a shower of stars to mark
                                its brunt, its curling of tight fingers into
                                  fists of foisted heating)
                                              (there
   ­                                         such
                   ­                     brightness
                                 ­      is a circle within
                                      A circle of
                                     tingling bruteness
                                     you have liked me
                                       to be between your
                                         smart ****** of cherry
                                            pertness–
    ­                                                LIPS

o open me quiet

         –in–

more completely my
very closed.

that such
,of tightest whiteness,
spreads cooly

parts ethereally

the quirky mystery
of empty rooms
behind nice doors

(where every sleeping is awake
amongst such nothing so big
eats totally the quick figment of
a thought faster

than breath                                   )





.So let's small?

this makes sleeping,
inside your slender,
the beginning song of life:

my lip;
the shoving of sudden fur;
your own quaking;
and the collapsed nerve.

and the each new little thing of it
(ever day)
makes life in smooth jolts.

love as a woman,
who wears within,
our love in something

very alive,
quickly with 10 fingers
10 toes and grows
inside that hive
where my love as flesh
has lingers.

feel lipped white,

many of tiny
                        
                            sea

                                        crests

                                        the fitness of your

                                                                body

                                                                 is ruined

                                                                 ,perfect,

                                                                  iron grey

                                                                  with frigid

                                                                   and lipped white

                                                                   many tiny

the dawn by who many the earth shall feel
in waking uneasily morning
they(the who)

men will go
boys

rising into the fleet darkness

my wife,

you are my flesh,
within your flesh:


            (my son)

who sleeps within you.

i love you that you are me,
and i am you;
inside your body
which sleeps beside me.

my alive:

   this awakeness seems to breathe

of being close through skin
to heart and muscles
singing softly stroked

by peach parted
over pit stinging;

the gross and fuzzy pash
bristles and bur
catching on roughness of
lip:

has two eyes
completing after darkness
hair in pale perfusion,

lipping with flowers
curled in mounded heap;

whose breaking sound
(star startled)
shook with saliva

–throat can't

               but to

                    unkeep

which does rain a lot but rather sometimes nicely also sun giddy for legs arms napes slender fat new old is eaten and lovely for a bit is virginal a young girl like pink with a short skirt purple tights flats and a smile from across the room I'd like to get into for about 4 weeks raining sunny and smiling : April

i do not know a word
having only written i
can only say i do not know
how to read or a poem
perhaps in a book
where i thought i did
was a dream of
words and poems
amongst men
who know words
but only i can say
i do not know a word

in winter there escapes some

tendril of whitely bent curlsome
vapor


                  overcoming


crispness into immediate sunlight
a twig of life

                   glowing

(nothot


                                                          )IT


barrels toylike against the sea
and is eaten quickly into mute
indelible



                      No Thing

**** what it's so you're

you're so


                        ****


and pretty
in shoulders

around a chest
where
(so nicely flutters)

youth

(and over it
are
your
****                     )

Summer, it's been how long – uoy neeb, Summer? since
last time
i was inside you,

Summer.how
long low dry
in your intense
dull fragrance
,Summer , has

there been the
tranquil riven
deepening purple
of very supple
twilight,                               Summer?

the hair you are is very shining
between the creased heaving
of your ******* Summer; it
droops a slow slung leaving

of breath

of breathe/breathing.


Summer i can't do you think there are and how many nights inside you
their quick quick hands between the course prickle of wincing darkness
shingled with the tiny digging of pale spades?

(i do not know)

i will live occasionally until there are no more nights inside you
and i, cloaked in the able dirt of dying earth, the moist splinter of my body

quick   quicker

than any night passed inside you since the last time i was

and longer


longer



than

the low the low low

black blackness

of steep steep steep dark.

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

                                                 and fathoms

                        ever

SUN);

                       you are colours brightest
                       in every lash
                       glowing tremendous
                       hair
                                                                                                             this only
                                                                                                             is such a fine
                                                                                                             it's unpractical
                                                                                                             and perfectly
                      even in the
                      fastest darkness
                      you are said more
                      loudly
                      roaring
                      to my eyes
                      every crumb
                      hot and naked
                                                                                                             creeping
                                                                                                             you up into
                                                                                                             my soul
                                                                                                             i steal
                                                                                                             briefly
                                                                                                             (prometheus too)
                                                                                                             some little
                                                                                                             blush
                     from on your cheeks
                     blooms
                     some hot neon
                     fire
                     (in the very deepness
                      darkness coddles
                      hushed lips)
                      and it is
                                                                                  love(