did you ever reading unbearably beautiful suddenly
fall out every letter or words even really tiny and
without sound stumble up into air cringing
with evening's unsharpest light

                                         i

lufrednow ylpsirc srettel ta yletinifni nageb i did
   snuon sbrev ecindoolb gnuls sdrow derettefnu
              gnixommulf meht revo thgir llef i ylevol
                detanhcne yllacigam yesorpnu yleritne

Oh this were if only it were if
it might
be more possibly

to wantingly be.


                                    (but only)
                                          it's
                                        were

not if
or could.

Or if
it were
is

                       it might


(would)

     be.



an'
pleasantly so.

impromptu heaven
your sudden ample petal
drove clean straight wicked
a gnarling sodden wistful considerate
inconstant unpermanent rising golden bobble
(a really big wet
said on my heathen brow
the somewhat between
of your delectabley furnished hips)

guggle buggle
the skirts and muggles
meager or muddle
                                         like 2 tones
a twilight
       almost sweetly
a sweating majesty(it broke trebleing uncorked femurs
briskly pattering the swilling silt
the siltish swill
                                 )by a massive
the very sea was outward and upward and forever and ever and ever & E,V'eR;
            !
             '
            "
              .
                '
               "
            .
              ,
                   '
                        .
                  ,          
                             .  
                                        '
                                                    ,
                                                               .

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    !
                                                                                                                                   '
                                                                                                                                      ,
          
                                                                                                                                                '
                                                                                                                                                
                            
                                                                                                                                                  ,
                                                                                                                                                             ,
                                                                                                                                          

                                                                                                                                                '
                                                                  



                                                                                                                                                                       .

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

.




























                                                                            ****'s ******.












































                                                                                                                                                                              .

"where are you?"

and by the way, "i've been"

the hour of a girl

(often to kiss the shoulders of mountainS"

leeeepinG"

came you pinkly curving over curving rush
by flaming lipped in sleeping flowers
the aching stem; the caving hush
from easy darkness there sloping towers,

the falls deeply leaning on pelvis *******
moonlight coiling rolls and peaks
a column steaming at each terminal's cleft
whose each glowing timber cloyingly reeks

of my wreak, and the uncarefullest youth
who the stupid *** of creaking motion
is frailty distilled in instant truth
and mocks, by beauty, the immortal ocean

toward ecstatic dying we slowly leap
from the sickled moon where darkness creeps

what are you?do you
think?you are?doing?

to me.will you

doit?more?

Please?

"You're not what I expected."






















"What should I have been like?"

"I can't sleep," she said her lips were and body went a forest to the very edge of the sea.

.























































                                "Let's ****."

the world is alive
and i think
who knows?

is death,
maybe and
perhaps but
always nothingly

arrives somethingly
between the pressed hips of Rose Buds:
a little song.

              (and why not?)

because aren’t pretty girls after all,

their own voice which
breaks over ilia

the only alive
which a pond is .

(and let me tell you i have been inside the neatness and warmth of pond and spring where the fronds extend between cloves of sunlight there was many pretty girls between the thigh and hip bone up to the knee in bracken smelling of some cheap summmer wine)

i feels it the
keenly reeling
offall to

                LEAP


completely mortalness
(and kiss by dashing

           w
         i
            n
         gs

the juice'd plumpness
day's killing
           )
                       fleet,

                          '

                                   ;


                            



                           .

her mouth was
(it did)
i heard it
--and a whole ocean
went pouring

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,.!

i   have   felt   you ,
the           entering ,
of  a whole world
inside               me

   (I am its mouth)

but          it speaks

through your lips

.    my soul effuses, and things even drunker than Spring have emerged   .































































­










                                                                 ,

"that christ was a good ol' boy
he was a good ol' boy with his arms hanging
with his arms hanging hung he was a good ol' boy.

he cured lepers and he
went like mad to kiss
their bodies rotting he
went like god's supposed to go
--right up to them--
and he hung his arms about them
and he cured those lepers he

died on a cross
somewhere i don't
remember he was
a good ol' boy

that christ."

.































































­




                                                 ok Spring let's ****




























































­




.

a confused or starry night:
It sweats
                with burning
Jewels Jousting Just
as lovely as my lady's eyes which sparkle quick as diamond's
   F                    .                                                           ­                                             !
  i             , '             '  ,                                                             ­                              '
n g e r s.'   ;   '              '.                                                          ­                       ,
                   .     '  . ,   ;                                                            ­               ;
                      ,                         ­                                                         '
      ­                   ' , ,  , ,     ,    ,   .    . . ..........................................   '

.




















                          "We have a very unhealthy relationship."




























.

neatly performed life
between a girls thighs

             a boy

i knew last summer

                who

loved a fairy with
a piece of steel in her
nose
            got

caught in the cut
of her
downy sable
and

            gentle

sweep of eyes
where crispest jade
spent a rounded chip
of beautiful
                         pain

.








































"I'm sorry."

I love you.

(I'm sorry.)

"Goodbye."











































.

oh death do me,
when i'm
become
just

A

pale jet
(in the night)flowers
between the nimble
lips of darkness

a careening bolt of hot remembrance
all the bodies that my hands have been:
the ease and tremors of their *******.

death, this catch, rest, carry
(the hollow of my stem)
the love each new as old
nor less than any other

that lived within me tightness
that go with me in end.

this green dream,
of which i think too much,
marked of dint and lurid scar
whose cloven cheek
is comely seamed:

bares the hurt of boyish touch
where felt too full the words they speak,
now lies in frost–winter ajar.

but if could i
return to shoots
the forest where in snow is kept

your ice'n heart, my heat accept,
i'twould not despair to die:

But–

alas,

"pity is praised as the virtue of prostitutes."

like i,d like to be
i'D like to be like Thee
Like theE mostly
in The wee
and Glee
                 (your silver and your morning

.































                                ­                     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.

when i do looking(eternally)into
your eyes steeply
the complete
ingenious potion
of their
smallest
drunken dots
eat the entire fullness
of me
and i fall into them
                                                            ­                      


                                        ­                                         4ever

"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."

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.

were it as rippling as the techno static shoveled obdurately
in the volume of this writhing pit i'd sonic cavalierly with the
fairy dusting eyelids fluttering. stripping accurately the moisture
of my minute organs churning salty crystal obliqueness at the
stunning lounge seriously unserious fractals micturiting. hey it's
youth. what else?

America is ******'
a bit its lips
are

America is
its tongue
the slippery
and sublime

it
so deeply feels
its throat
tight to fill pretty

her eyes
rolling wonderful
the whites
roundishly
enervated pink
with

a bit of sharp
a bit
of
glass
smoke and
pipes

her lipsfull
the meat
of "****"
and

when you
push between their parting
emits
the frailest squeak

but
*** er
the she
wants to
please *** er
the fucc
er lips
the cooly mess
er cheeks
damson stained
and puckering to

kisss

today i listen farther to music almost nearer
at the sickled median
of fluff and ice
and
"shhh",

there is a man in a small voice with a tight hallway

he is waiting

he is waiting, his boy like dolleyes watering
in his tight voice
is small hallway

he is waiting

oh blood the
increasing
of your
quickly                  intense

fragile

     deepness

lurks with the hot sleepness of Summer,

whose languorous muscles prickle
(very steeply with clean waters of health
                                                                          )
.  straying

with new hands
of unmaking breath
between every flower
their fingers go into the
stems of young petals
making, by the brilliant
heat of life, some darkness wholly deeper

(completely more brilliant than

who R you the god
i've been
inside several
times tonight

         ?

a beach rose
where one time
i wished i was
seeing the ocean
split itself again
over a man.

did you ever
wonderlingly
upward which
a star upon
pitch stairs
climbs casually?

who knows not me i've never even seen.

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."

dawn immortal dying invulnerabley fragile dawn
that comes an immense fragrant bloom foisted
spontaneously mountains briefly with flowers over
a slow lake glassed in certain unmoving tranquil
colours

there is not

                        )i have tread(where hours in you have died

flowers

                 and rushing fields of them




                 where cotton and thorn



                 )gushing


twitched a cat's eye
behind the town(



caught between hips)quickly sleeping in fur(and the tousle of its catching)

and silver moonlight grumbled stirring

(ran crimson in its thread

                                                  )


as leaping the city came to my cheeks coldly stinging with March(and remembering our body



                                                          i recall thinking:


                                                          is there more a perfect thing?

every noteless music of this world is a song
exploding fracas in my smallest body lifting
burdened wings broken to stars falling 1x1
into my eye; sort of like the warmest rock
of green bluely visits all of me every days
it falls rising to up under my feet aloft it
i swallow winds breathtakingly sounds of
god touching all my atoms with his cooler
fingers  strumming over the strings of each
incredible momentous tedium when i am
doing the dishes in the frailing hammer of
Summer's heat gorgeously nuzzling the lilies
popping up from the richness deeply soil
in the flower bed right next to the porch
droops amazingly the tiredest earth

.







































"Whenever I meet someone I really like I always want to tell them I love them right away. In fact, I have to try really hard not to.

Most people are just as afraid of affection as they are of abandonment."































.

amongst a thicket always

           younger always

                  distinct always
                  
                    1 always
                    green
                    always
                    supple
                    always bends
                    sways
                    always yields

         amongst a thicket


                      always

                         1 always

                             frond
    
                  apart

                                         always


                   from the others
                     grows
                                gets
                                        virile
                                                  lean
                                        smart
                           careful
            younger
                           strong
                                       thicker
                                                    with
                                              ***
                                    root
                            and
                  earth
                              unarrested

                                                     sprouts

                                                                        verdant

                                                                                           Eternal

those things heavy confused wonderful
to touch are cool on the shore of a beach
beneath light blue and seagulls effortless
on wind in a field sunkissed flowers by
your brow laying with your body
splendor and grass itchy on backs
pricking at cotton and getting hot sweat
delicately messes your makeup quickly
sprinting on loose noble perfect calves
to the arms of a lake and stabbing it
the pierced cleat of your excellent
figure and it's fire smokey and just
on a beach somewhere up into eve's
unsad cheeks (where there shines
unbelievably minute and gorgeous
stars)

there is, after all,
one thing
(after my breath)

–a star–

hung loose
and into the night
(which is my soul)

dreaming through
moist lips
and the cup of flower

a kissing of pale light;
the rough newness of rain;
and the smell softly afterward.

on the steps of an old house sits a bright boy
(his hands are full of sleeping and flowers are)
he is in the summer a bit and there he is
sitting a bright boy on pale steps with his hands
full of sleeping and flowers are carefully and
he plucks each from and each from he plucks
their petals on the old steps of a house in
the hot pash of sunlight sits a bright boy, who

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.

each eye precise;
each eye cut with
the dull rub of
sharp blackness

(eats the skin overunder)

the pale chip of cheeks
peppered and kissed
with freckles the mute
bruise of youth and
21 years of girlness

(it smooth lips rubs over the teeth
and says,

        "I really like your tattoos."

of

(do you suppose)?raintime morning with

creeping.

                               shadowlightshadowlight

crreping


strands,


                      hands as



soft can be? the inching,

caress,
and deeply?