it's dark a cat shifts
springing the sheets
stir you the cat
and a branch outside
the window taps taps
taps the window outside
a branch it's dark the cat
stirs the sheets spring
and it's dark you roll
over and somewhere
a dog is barking

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.

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

inside bed
groans i can
hear the rain outside
painfully wintering and
the shifts covers her (the hands between)
sighing erupt palefully spiders incandescent
the notmoon doesn't its light and outside i can hear
the rain(painfully)

i can hear

(and outside)

painfully it's rain

(and wintering)

i can hear.

there is a man waiting a man waiting in short arms small
round, round round cheeks gaunt cheeks in fat eyes with
a hard nose a smart mouth a quick unspeaking mouth
a tense hurtles fist of lips and teeth not moving doesn't
say a word and he is waiting in his short arms fat eyes
and quiet mouth at the quiet mouth of every little dark
half empty half full glass of night and day at the end of
the night when you pull your lids tight and he is waiting
with his sharp hands his ludicrous expected hands of
your waiting your whole life for them when your walking
down down down in the little quiet dark of a half empty
street he's waiting at the end his lips pulled back over
the tight loosest grin of fleshless fat teeth tickling teeth
at the back of your neck at the back of your neck tingling
faster and faster at the same exact pace of your whole life
waiting.

.





































                                                       Your body is a word that I am mad to say.










































.

.






























"What have you been doing these days?"



"Trying to become myself."






























.

I think--mystery (doyou?) more unrigidly
suppose waters sweet and waters salt
mingle in kissing and shall they make?

founding all kiss

all feel

stomach and rib?

and suppose god,         do you think?

rib and loving, for i care
and give again in exchange

my side to part
my bone to pare

and for but only that: kiss

nights   sweat    pash

skin and skin and skin
(all nice. all lovely. all
clothed in unique mysterious
beguiling)

                      ankle and calf


breast and stem

for this i infer something perfect

(i less)

and think,

                       therefore,

                                                kiss

unnicest winter die please cold
and let Spring unlaboured
                          unclosed Spring come

please, winter dying, that for you
coats and hats
tightly of bodies worn
from the slick ice
thinly which veils
the limbs of trees, naked, save for
thy

There's some sense of things, how do I say, I don't know--I feel it uniquely. As when I have been my self, alone in a car, watching streetlights wash over my hands. As when I a have been amongst the stark folds of almost winter nights. As when I have been pressed suddenly from unkissed, into, kissed.

And how do I describe it? Maybe I don't need to. Maybe you already know.

Who knows, perhaps.

new was sitting across from me
her skinny was wider hips waist
hair by face was precisely framed
in the neatest skin of comely youth
i was talking my kept my mouth was
to slaver words dear as quickly heaving
as to her ears i might impulse the livid inch
of her pristine lips to defeat my useless sound

bruise
i like
to press you. your

body and


the skin beneath me please

i would like to

                            ,
                                   press you.

my knees hurt-- praying in your church

issohard
for

25 minutes of writhing

i pray

my mouth runneth over
with your cup and

my knees hurt

pr
ayingi
n y
our church

i am
(after all)
alive in you

                       this day .

the soft brushing,
the course fiber,
the flaxen hair.

i kiss you smally.

you do not stir
more than a pale breath
around your nostrils.

my son is inside you.

i will always love you.


(...sleep)

icanfeelsome cold
(hard birds between)
in Portland
there is a red brick building
building between
the hard cold
and some birds

(      i  can  feel   )

the sheafmen come in night as day
and lay the stock of grain in hay;
they pull the scythe to the reap the lot
and bear the yoke in cool as hot.

never at ease, never at stay:
they toil a hand fer heft and weigh;
faster and faster they tie wuts brot
laying in bundle accorded knot.

never to sleep, always to lay,
baring the dirt at shafts' away;
tug at haft ere comes the rot,
that's all the life a sheafman's got.

thyme is a mint julep stirring
in my deep hand between
heat and laughter and the cool
                      
                                              
                 ­                             cool


                                              
               ­                                cool                                                          pen­umbra




of the enormous stiff
hot softly becoming
loose with Spring

C   I   T   Y,


carrying a warm shawl
a vapor like
breath of smoothly etherizing
evening coils around
limb and throat
neatly;

the alleys are alive with
old dirt
bent through
a thousand years of sifting
and grip thrifty of
bums

doused in becoming
night (they grouse
and grumble to
find some body
of shelter ,

stealing into the
weave of
can-liners
old breath and
stale coffee            );


life is drunk a little
me with remembering

remembering the
sudden coo of
the city to watch
it grow dark and
ribbed in shadows;

i am a splinter in the quick of the night.

burning with just the tonic
of vital nothing to be between
grass and dirt forever worm
pursued and forgotten of
lip and finger

(it makes me alive to know i will be dead ) someday.

my hands mix and jingle – i feel their blood and course with them.

And the City
is big
it
feels
like
so many daughters
apart and full of
my tongue:
i eat
and
become it;

my mouth is a silent crescent,
it eclipses sound
and does not say a thing.

i sip of the body of my hand

(who is thyme;

who is a mint julep;


deeply                        )


                 .

h

      U

     n
       g with

just the moon your
shoulders up hold
the round round
round head of

your

                                      body
            ­                          bodyy
                                 ­     bodyyy


holds the down *******
of your naked chest's
white hilt springs
between round rounding
head of
your shoulders' point
pinnacle, pinnacling
at the white white hilt
of Your neck

fit fits ****
(droop obliquely)
swelling twixts
the rude triangle
of your hips
                      hips
                              hip­s(


and the white hilt
of your neck
blunders
with
the course forest of my hand
suddenly grown around it                     )

grown up it the
pillar of it to
the neat neat       neat neat

***** of your mouth. There

h
a
n
g
s

the yawning chasm

where
all throats
lead to
. Scream

to what unthing new do i impossibly owe my hands to touch?
(its face perhaps its lips or
the body beneath when

it parts beyond darkness

,and some fat drunkard
howls at the moon)?

of Cherries,



                 "OUCH"


down'er pants firm notched reeking
stiffly *****


                         cherries

red cute slippery fumbles fingers over and

down'er pants

jeers clean shaven a howling gypsy split
from its lips to its lips
Wearing a manicured crown (strip cut square)
notched tingling
its

face


is

.                                                                                            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
                                              





                                            )

.























































                     "You're in love with love.

                                        You don't love anyone."













































.

.






























            "Water you waiting for?"

































.

it feels too heavy with people
and sounds often
in little boxes

, people

little boxes in them

where sounds

are too heavy.

.                                               u

                                                        <3
                                                          
                                   blood
                                                       and
                                         stuff
                                                     u
                                              <3
                                                     me

                                              and


                                                          u
                                                  <3
                                                             ***

                                                         in
                                                                        the
                                                 back
                                                                                 of
    
                                                                 my car

                                                             u
                                                         <3
                                                               colours
                                                          and
                                                               *******
                                             and
                                                      i
                                                          <3
                                                                u

.



































                                                                                fly













                                                                                                                                                                          .

somewhere i am sleeping i can hear
the wind across
the span of my ear a flower
is bending in it is bent
bending in the wind
it is white
its petals are
its body is
thin it's green
it's yielding very
nicely

somewhere i am sleeping i can hear

At a quarter past eleven AM Charles took the stairs down to the lobby. Spare, yet stridently attired, he moved with the august vigor of a man only a third of his sixty-two years. Smart shoes, brimming smile and shoulders laden in the heavy weave of his sharp overcoat, Charles exchanged a quick wink with the precisely groomed lobby girl.

"Always a pleasure." He quipped.

"Always." She replied.

Drawing a deep breath of the frigid air, Charles paused as he pressed his shining wingtips into the undisturbed palate of that previous night's latest snowfall. Looking around excitedly, admiring the deep shimmer of that brisk morning:

Charles was struck down immediately by a large volume public transport–moving at an unusually high velocity.

what are to me you do doing
                to me
you youing?

the hard that comes
where soft is key:
(mouths that hurt
on bended knees);

teeth that teeth
through sharp where skin,
pushing self
when clothes are thin.

last night rain magic

          (such magic)

you visited again
so freshly and so
cleanly you caked
each hour i laid

        (unstirring)

with your music
your voice and
song that gent'lest
and constant pitterpatter
                                                    ­
                                             pitterpatter


           pitterpatter
          


                                       ­                                                     pitterpatter­




                              pitterpatter







          ­                                                                 ­                                             pi
                 ­                                                                 ­                          
                                      ­                                                                 ­                     t
                                          ­                                                                 ­          t
                                                               ­                                                               er­p
                                  

                                                               ­                                                         a
      ­                        
                                                                ­                                                                 ­ tt
        
                                                    ­                                                        e
  

                                                      ­                                                                    r

how you feel in the dark( uneasy
imbalanced weirdly strong) feels

like ( coy unearthly howling) rain
feels deep with smelling after (
prickled millions of cold and hot )
mingling with the seaair and is
gently acrid salty wafts of gulls
crying scattered threading the
moonlight through their coarse
throats ( little tiny trillions of

kissing droplets slightly ) like
you feel in the dark ( imbalancing
coyly acrid howling ) feels like

THE SEA

"We'll start with choking and work our way up to slapping."

when i the you sweetly
sublime of
knees fleeting intensely

kiss inwardly
the entering sound

You
the perhaps exactly
shed a sliver of teeth

by catching skin
gag
upon a sliver
of ***** shyness

and seem feel
the arms by
youth hard

hands

crimped skinny hot
vulnerable teasing
to swallow

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

crinkle dust
up on
           lashes frail
those mercurial onyx
splinters o' your sharp
eyes
        you catch me
looking at you from
the back of
                    the room
you catch me onyour
sharp eyes
                   grinning
a slutty rictus
                        you cut
a sharpness out the air
with them
                   green shards

this world alive with night
tinly bruised by
chimes seems to
wither seems to

hold the ready mystery of
life between its hips mouth
full of lips steaming up one
spectral flower of luminous self;

(i wander and suddenly am)

the garden is rough
momentarily i make a fist
of five fingers

somewhere there is a sound
a totally superfluous noise

i yawn and turn through clouds
of just spring air towards the
bashful eclipse of silence

i count my fingers and there is my hand
i mark it and pleasantly ingest the pale
twinkling swaddled of the wide sky;

how many days are there?
how many nights(and a petal
catches in the groove of my palm)?

it's thick
i'm drunk
the night is alive with
world is tinly
bruised by chimes


(And purple easily conquers the horizon

to love
it is
the me to care for lips seriously fragile. the

for me

to leap strenuously knowing
and dance amongst unknowing
the towering cadence, my heart. to

the for me (love) the

sturdily upheave the slowly clamoring of soil,
and march widely the span, my kiss, through closing

and meet with your kiss, the legion, my soul;
(a parting of silence. a fiercely innocent foal)

these things of dreaming:

"I will always love thee."

(there is no love:

"I just want to ****–and then die."




                            )

.

























             "Promise me you won't forget."


             "I won't."























































.

oh the world
(smoothly electric)

which turns 'pon
a thread divisible

assumes such shapes magic
(hurling singly rotund)

to smash by impulsed fabric
with savagery so sublime

fists should
(uncurling)
turn from bruises


                                          into wine

all love
through
the crisply murdered toto
of uncouth faces


    (FALL)   i want to sing




inside you once again

each crimson bending
of vein

the accidental flower
of my hips

some death living
more hotly lathered

in young stupid
lovely dumb lips,

(noth shaping)


unelected silence
that sings to me:


i might feel O'
your primrose hands,


whose palate
,in plushy sward,
cannot house

or unhouse

               the lord,.
                             '
                                ,
                           '


                                    ,


                     '                  
                                                  '




                                   ;




                                    .

what could be more ridiculous than

this moment?the

sunmoon bloodfingers and

fucklovely

spate of effulgent  starlight; Darling that

your lips suddenly
seem to do? (my hands

the curling
of a cute cut
in clear water

a slendering
band of crimson

tracing the arcuate heap
of life's reeling–

caving to fill
in blistering flens
of brilliant
dying
instants–

,"I love you." the sand
a beach occasionally
the back seat of an old
car the sleep fitfully
morning of rising
too early into your mouth
a flower gleams by
broken of silence
sunburnt and smelling
of aloe rubs
with the cool rub of
coiled muscles , . ;                            (my Dear
                                                                  w
                                                                      e will die)
                                                            the night will
                                                            trun upon a blade
                                                            of light; our
                                                            skin will bunch
                                                            into delicate
                                                            rills of dry
                                                            coils and
                                                            dust become.    .          .                   .









                                                      BUT,

dear i will hold (you) that impossible violence of the first quiet moment of
your lips that i held slightly in my own i will hold it in my heart that
unbroken stem of your frail laughter of supple vibrance made my dear i will recall the hurt wildness of your eyes and bruise of your soft voice
my dear i will hold in my tiny hands the vast pulpit of your hairsong
and bloodpoem my dear i will forget not the dull and moments each
i will remember the early mornings and lashed travail of each lashing
voice.


                                   (My Dear I Will Hold You.
                                    I Will Carry You.
                                    INTO THAT NEAT DARKNESS
                                    . i will cup the serene mystery
                                     of every stupid minute of our
                                     body and dear
                                     i
                                     w
             i
              l        
                l

.

does up what seems a little clumsily down snow?

White and
White and
White and

everywhere, perhaps?seems snow

seems no

edge or fay

where might Spring's lewd fingers fit?
lewd fingers fit fat
lewd fingers find fickle fair frayed a bit fay
where its fingers can fit?

(the sun)
whose thick fingers
between the quick thighs of night

       can. fit in)just Spring

spelt:

the uneven the
folding of into
mouths–

grass;

between tickles
and niggling
of thigh

sweated and
hot through
muscle of wine,

over the lips

       breaking

a dash of
                     light ;

sound
(and not sound too) –––

there is a doe
a starling
and a
thick beam

of golden wheat

parts the sun
into white manifolds
of burning health:

(wither which,
into each should go

all those summers
afore the snow) .

Cool. it makes me feel
(the ocean when)
words do not the lightening
of the long sky,

in undrab Spring(a body is proposed)

of flowerets and garland roses
(green at the knees
between the hips
stoking         )in profusion

their broke
colorful
tension
ringing
(the fur stroke

                  singing  )

o   t      d                 w   to      FRIDAY harbor            w     s
    h                          e                               ­             i        a       o
   i        a       I        n                                            t        s ­      r
s       y                t                                               ­                 t
                                              ­                                     of

                 gorgeous
a peeling ember of light
pomped and glutted
serenely basking
a fleshless
glove                                                of­        light
                                                   ­                  all over the bay
                                                             ­        and twiddling
                                                       ­              my skin
                                                            ­         between the little shops
                                                           ­          i was
                                                             ­        and i was

Dear are you)your mouth is
and softly when feels
your throat full
hard and me of(
you wet
is



                        sweetheart baby darling


i can and do you want
you do and want
me to
do you?

my fingers, baby?

sweety i can.

eating to fill with gagging
your mouth nose eyes
like starlings
chirp so
deeply
incessant

and like incessantly
a straling's chirp
your lips hang
hard open to
fill


and Sugar Darling Honey
i can fill so tightly it
my with flower
thickly

until its blossom do
like you want
to sap so sticky

Honey Baby Darling Sweety
i can and fill you
my fingers
and can
can i



                ?
            (Yes.)

the"fu"ck(U
                     )17

whyn't.let's

cuz yerI'm A **** "we"re
hangin by
a long fingernail,nail
,nailin U
withaaa
finger(tasteit)
don'*** taste?                                                               Good

.








































                "Where are you?"



































.

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