i have caught on the edge of shadows

               my hands

halfly splayed by quarters and 1/3s
darkness and lightness

(in my hands splayed, caught)

and folded it neatly into my soul

its heatness and its coolness

adroitly cupped in sudden gold:

SUMMERFALLAUTUMNSPRING

what burst from limbs
in naked fire
?the sprout of love
A supple pyre

keep these hands alive in your hands; that they walk and breathe; that their skin becomes downy in the spring, and from them spears love-roots of dark grass, filling over the hills and meeting with the excellent night their shining bodies.

live, love and smell the rich perfume of your lovers hips; meet and again touch with them your cheeks, and delight in them–the coil of their heap.

they are with your body, and to touch another's is a great privilege–and i know it.

wander and know the nape of them; laugh and extend your blood into their own.

invite their inspirations into your own breast, and make with it one respiration.

they are cool and wonderful between the ears; they are soft laughter and stupid giggling; they are the arcuate sleep of a rose thorn–deeply within your skin.

know and love them.

hold not back your laughter, nor praise, nor joy in their clutch.

touch, ramble, delight in the visceral perfusion of their mouth and kiss.

i got so many beautiful

   (words and Dear
          hands, Baby)

they just want to breaking
leap across the chaste ugly
winter a sting of poppies
into her steep heart bury
their roots and climbing
them shout from clenched
colours warmth as you
have next to a sweating
Summer lake been curiously full of

getting so falling
the leaves as rust
                             a
                        
                          r
                  e
                 t
                           o

                                drifting
      heaps

                      piling  handsomely
                                            by dead
                                                     whom eats
                                                                      the trees
                                                                             (the sky generally says rain2day

i went about the down and cleand own b yth ec l ea n
lithe bony bay ribbing the asphalt skin chuckTaylors'
and by and by the astute angle of the seas daunting
tailored skinny notch a grommet of sun ****** through
the scaly tremble of wispy ***** clouds spunting and breatheing
casual volumes of aromatic fluid bumbling out their tired
mouths and ******* on the lax pavement some of the heavy
drops "sPloosh!' wenting the ocean did and going "
whOosh ! "     the waves are munificently scrambling all about the rough timber
of the agile dock sitting sorely all alonesome and fickle
    so i gave it my feet
and wattled to its precocious face
and slid into the big
       blatant crumble
:      THE WATER

I have been too long from love
which is warm sand 'tween
my toes, the sun, and the shore
'gainst the infinite murmur
is slender, full, and thick with
people and people and people

skins many some golden others
pale as snow, but not that let's
recall your short dark and olive

           (hair;body)

teeth imperfect perfect and above
splayed the wide umber of thy nose
and above pierced twin pools of jade
(

           and below)

lean firm
distilled youth easy
******* effortless
stomach soft marvelous

(now from sand up)

feet pleasing colours
toes chips
calves diamonds
on bones
thighs unmerciful
and inward folding
hungrily 'tween they

a small stubble

and

heaven

.
.
  .
    .
      .
     ,
       .
         .
        ,
          .
         .
                     .


         '            
            
                                    .  




                 ,









                                                      ­     .
                                                            '
 ­                                                             ,

.                                                                ­                                                                 ­                                                           s
    ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­                                                     o
                                                               ­                                                                 ­                                                             m
                                                               ­                                                                 ­                                                          e

                                                               ­                                                                 ­                                                                n­
                                                                ­                                                                 ­                                                             i
  ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­                                                            g
   ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­                                                       h
        ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­                                                   t
                                                               ­                                                                 ­                                                     s

the wind is something
alive in my hand
and i look
thinking:
whose?

me,maybe?

after all i am occasionally myself.

i believe in a story

               (it is my love)

the passing of my hands through light,
the coming of slight graces,
the bended stocks of mute flowers.

my love
you are without skin,
your eyes do not see,
your lips do not kiss.

my love
i love you–

         (and where

are you?

my love you
are the whole neatness
wishing within me

to feel the slight pressing
of heat beneath your skin;

the pulsed flexing of your vein
and hem. my love you are

the small darkness
and tiny quiet of my
heart to fill you kissing;

the crimped weakness of your knees,
the playing of your eyes after nightfall,
the winking fleetness of your cheeks.)

And, my love
are you

  where ?

(i can feel you)

even with space
between breathing
and heat between us;     my love

i can feel your someday lips
within my lips the
waxing of your palm
within my palm.

my love
(and i have always loved you)
will believe
in the story

of your hands and lips:

the passing of my hands through light,
the coming of slight graces,
the bended stocks of mute flowers.

a colour and a day
the sea was open bending oral
muttering senseless beauty
i reflected:

                     so tooAMi

cool this
finger over
scalp(

             the world)

and beneath
the hair the
slick stuff
of love:


F L O W E R S  .    

Where
between
the quick cloth
of trees a stag

(twining tine)

‘tween root and sea

. And the taste of everything

perhaps is
the last
breath of (almost) Spring

when neck and kissing
each smoothness of skin arrives.

Opening all doors—
fills all hallways:

the laughing of children
and the whispers of mothers

the very ugly beautiful you
AMERICA i

we the
(people)you
and me
are

lift me up
                and i'll coddle
you're dainty sun
                   with erring unlassitude
i'll straight and gulp
      your hard glowing
hips
             your buds
                                     and their careful petals
I'll separate
                      filling shuddering beam
and stately ******
            of sleep                
                                   you grate
        and pummel
                          sickly
           a waft
of unsure certainty
or        the sinuous lean garden
what i lap and cleave
         white hot  
                                                                            thrusting

let's say tomorrow we'll meet more usually than yesterday we didn't know each other
but today let's kiss and **** with our hearts pressed bleeding against our ribs let's drink
the big enormity of our conjoined figures wracked and bobbing let's say tomorrow we'll
meet and we'll get coffee and we'll talk about nothing and we'll just think our hands
in the twain of each others thighs and we'll say let's go catch a movie but we'll both
know that's not what we want so let's just skip saying and use those practiced oral tools
excellently with the others own; let's bump them and giggle

i
found something

(inside me)

will you let

me

show

you
you
you
you
you
you
you
you
you
you
you
you
yo­u
you
you
you
you
you
you
you
you

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

sa
yn
ota
wor
dor
)don


           'ts

a




                       ya




                 words
                     m
                   o
                    u
                   t
                    h(h
                        o
                           W)about
                          how
                            in
                        winter

                           slep
th
ard
ly a
letter
ofy
ourbody.but

(with a verb i
                    you
                    the aching
                    and all the birds
                    of a forest
                    
                    leapt

                       from





                          SLUMBEr



                          and rose






                          upon







                            the crimp

                            of darling youth





                             a flower,



                                 ,


                                          .



                               ,



                   ,



                                          .

i love you
being the leg beneath mine
,my wife
who is
beautiful
and feels warmly
something softness which
i love to feel
.



.




.









,

mind ,
doing
     the    flesh
        thing ,
  sits
occasionally
    standing
(sometimes)
    when
and if
   the undull
sudden
   happening
of body
  arrives
through all
quiet darkness
a vibrous
  and
luminent ,

     "Hello."

i'm not impressive
                                                      ­  (and i never will be.
                                                             ­                             .
                                  ­                                                         '
                                                               ­                            ,
                                                               ­                             '
                                  ­                                                        ,
       ­       
                    
                                                                ­                                      '
                         ­                                                          .

when into deepest rushing
a nightingale would sing
temporary blundering
into softest frailing
day

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

too burdened seal
this crimson juice
is just a bursting deluge

my blood

if

put

your in
veins
your

will pump
for me?

you

who, by first light is fingers
each deeper fingers than last
through grass rushing fingers
pressed (and wet of tawny
dew cut 'pon the softest pebble
howl) a very straight forest
from where darkness easily
wrests (its thigh open

                                        its petals tousled


                                                                               )more

to beingly is
to dyingly make of
white flesh

a most brutal mute song–

arms and hands behind
music of throat
–full of fingers–

pushed fingers into short throat,
deeply;

trying to
and openly
needs of, spit

where unsoftly comes
and fingers fit.

.























































                                                                                                                                                                        lust.






















































­





















































.

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

between them

i probably don't care
unless
           ido

"I tried."

After all, "I love you."

(what more could i do?)

we are effortless(
a pale and limbic house
)we hold in each others
our hearts
or music
                      the tone of marble calves
or your skinny hips                                            where
                                        i strum between they
the chord
                     which          rises
(from your pelvis )
                                        to a throat bubbling howl

when such love as roses have been
in the feet mountains
does and stags went together

up the rain and sun lashed hills
to walk amongst the mile of bulbs

and pluck from them their stems
and make with them their bodies.

a green was talking
behind my house
on all the earth is
sprayed its lips
with whom
it says
hello

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

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

as cool drunk small white neat dappled

                    a through forest

whence from divulged the easy rent of
a green creeps with innocent glowing
bent nothing doesn't yield never gives
its mouth easily to my mouth (who
forks between thick pursed lips a tongue
raging to eat it)

i feel some and the earth it seems does also sigh with the stroking of the cords. blissful countenance: for thee the sun will die.

there was how shall i say green the city consumed the meek and tender brilliant
all rose in slenderest gardening blossoms root 'pon root in earth univocal (it's
shoulders, feel fresh, smoothly revolt into unchaste Autumn)


                                                                      whose lipless grotesque

                                                                      smiling parts

                                                                      between all

                                                                      ivory leans

                                                                      October

                                                                      her
                                                                     smell
                                                                    is wet
                                                                   curious
                                                                  Cinnamon
                                                                 chamomile
                                                                  citrus tingles
                                                                 against
                                                                the wide
                                                               plate of unhairing
                                                                  FALL(s
                                                              from a broad leaf
                                                              russet tranquil
                                                             blue
                                                        ,        flat and cool        ,
                                                                peels with tenderest
                                                     coming


                                                                         eve


                                                               flickers




                                                                                                big




                                                                   with



                                                                                      frailing




                                                                             sun


                                                                       collapses

                                                                         intooneenormity:

                                                                         ORAnge

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

i can remember your mouth across from me i was late it was 11:17 i said i was sorry you said your mouth was across from in a mexican restaurant 2 years later your mouth was in my mouth in Eugene in Eugene it was very hot in the middle of the summer the van was broken down and i loved you so much there wasn't anything to do but climb into each other's mouth the thick heatness of sweating palms and you are sitting across from me in a mexican restaurant your eyes your mouth your hair was short 1 year later i thought you should cut it shorter 1 year later in a hot pocket of some thick freakness your hands mouth eyes spit and got open so wide i climbed into your whole body was so beautiful tasting better and fighting all night than death i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry


(i loved you)

A between
                  (these crumpled breaths of light
                                                                          )

is a              where
a there
                              a where there
                                      r
                                    o
                                , i
             l
s                                                     SUGARsexMAGIC

how Deep?a plunging softness
you,re an unimaginable velvet
in such beautiful darkness
achingslivers
wholly divest
                                       into i
every all
of your strange perfect
and we'll just break
endlessly,
                    ,
                         ,


                                                 ,



Alone

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

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

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

I love you, my wife, you are
beside me sleeping,
though earlier
you were warmly
within my hand,
your hand;

And I looked and I saw
you sitting there,
the light easily
within your eyes,
and all blueness peered
palely out;

What is more beautiful than you—
I do not know.

No more goodness that I know either.

(you are goodness ten times
the goodness that is me)

And kindness.

And I am always near to your thoughts.
And no one has ever loved me, as do you.

I love you, and I love you, and I love you.

You are my wife.
Always that I am.
And will be.

(i leaned over and kissed your cheek.
you were sleeping while, and were irritated—i could tell)

let's get differently. Electric let's

(you)sometimes get

,differently your

face let's
get red
hurting

(cuz you want it(




                   me to


ya want me too


let's





                        get,




                        .




                                     ,