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PK Wakefield May 2010
this moment
struck a hideous pose
but i could not
turn my self
from its
becoming
PK Wakefield Dec 2011
but rivers(like children laugh and run
the whole earth over)they are a smarting
riots of purest fornicating waters
they with the land do
they push into the
dark rich earth
their awl
and
they sigh
at the nape of
my yard i hear
them back there
and they have so little
perfect whispers and secrets
they tell them to me and i get into
the smallest parts of them and they
make me more than the imperfect changing
spit and blood
                          those rivers
                                                are
                                                      beautiful
PK Wakefield Nov 2010
by keen edged light do slice and fray the knotted chord of sanity
shed miraculous logic
for 2 bold fantasy, thy fancy of bulging rainbows,  a serrated pillar
of luminous children
midnight is a laughing thing, a great greeting lassitude, as carefully
collapses silken hair
for who's art i slaughter apprehensively motion, becoming prone
a receptive son             of the calming burst of gleaming fur
i stoke repetitiously the cambered vertebrae of fire
and by fingered velocity i stroke about the brash sliver of hair
  bashing aggressively from thy stupor of unclad flesh(a bastion
slight fragranced as aphrodite, the hollow of thy lip brimming
incandescent droplet

     a treat
                    i thee
                                oral
)...!
PK Wakefield Jun 2010
by the seashore

       (by the seashore)

sits the soft decAy.
breast laden frames 1by1(in neat rows)
unquenchable olive flesh thirsty dirt
devour

    but sotoo there        is this:

in the beneath quiet quays
the green darkness pulls ugly
gull crys oily wings from hideous throats
virulent diseased avian beak *****
exhaling billowing bacteria

                                                         plume
                    disgusting riot of feathers
white grin bleached pearl bones repose sandy drug
and all the children laugh horribl e to spread sickly
f              
               ingers

by the seashore
                                                                  erohsaes eht yb
PK Wakefield Jun 2012
"by the way," i thought, "you looked real nice
pierced (thigh barb) by a." mouth that should
instantly lingers

                                   down your hip
                                   on its bladed heap, my wholly *****
                                   love stands on end

leans more steeply into them and like vague
intense teasing tenses at the scalloped fringe
of madness, stings soft pink lipped rivers of
gasping(fingernails in my                                    shoulders)in yours

an army of smallsharp, agilemuscled, and into colored
chips of searing spend a long
ruddy

                 scratching
PK Wakefield Nov 2010
by what light!this pains' dismay is taught and frigid
it is the earth upholding my footfalls genial and slow
i tread and mark the soil as turning sunder:the stain
last frail and withered node of light 7fold and thrice
the hills are marching under that calamity of orange
duskish and fowling their curvaceous hide. i'm loose and tight
in folds of grass. and i walk

                                    and i walk

                                                   and i    w
                                                                         a


                                                                                   l;
                                                                                     K
C
PK Wakefield Jul 2010
C
well what am? a muscular innovation
strapped cords blistering the skin
bones wrapped in sinew,and aboutmy
hands the cords sing softly stroked. the boughs
splay and a forest gasps fronds detonate the
the strands of courageous sun hair.  an apparition
of glory sits fouling my shoulders and i am heavy.

so come the needle stem. peaceful riot veins blue
snakes. enchanting scent dump flow under and over or.

                  a fragment of violence.

Mr. Eliot;mr cummings,am i amongst) you?are my fathers.
PK Wakefield Nov 2010
cackle sublime savagery
in domineering supremacy
a knee repletes successive concussions
and by viscous absurd petulance
crack this gourd, thought bearing toothed
                                                   i
                                evol
                    ot
  hurt
               uoY,,,;
PK Wakefield Apr 2010
There is a flavor in the air. It is a taste of the mundane. It pervades the senses.
Dripping down the throat. Coating the eyes. Lost though it is in the seemingly endless
ambiguous struggles of humanity there is no light for with which to guide it. It is
copper. Gold. Steel. Salamander. It takes nothing but gives all. In it's place is the
truth of the matter. But the matter itself is the unknown. Drug through the cornucopia of
texture the thing is lost amidst the rubble of thought. Cracked on the rocks of reality
still it flounders. The otherwise intricate handles with which we grasp are beholden to no
man. Though this does not exclude the aforementioned. A winding stair. A hateful glare.
Emotionless. Drugged. In the eclipsing of the grandeur the solace of a thousand remains.
PK Wakefield May 2010
dance
     dance
dance
     dance
captivated dusty sleep
(slumber fiercely rust
on playground dreams)
drizzle drawn hood
concrete plane slab

riddled shafty iron
make kind orange-reds
on thy smooth cylinders
blessing my memories tactile

i walked here once


now only in
Morpheus' tender thrall
PK Wakefield Apr 2010
pale chalice
i hold you
(in loving tender)

-ness

put my lips to your
arrogant
threshold

sup
PK Wakefield May 2010
chaste spring lily loaded fingers
scything moted shafty sun tears
frail branches sifting precise phlorescent
sudden floral caving sound silence

heaps

of sleep powder crisp cheeks.
yawn billowing. oral sanctum.

when every arbor is neat little
straight rows onward ever spreading
into fading sight take my handinyourhand
and turn me to your guiding
descent body downward touching
peaceful forest day lover lacquered
lips
PK Wakefield May 2010
chaste stare strewn string
ever ascend down spiraling
electric kisses to aching abdomen
awaits corrupt dancing handless
fingers articulate blossoms
odoring fleshy fragments
sore friends marry thy
hearts in accurate bleached
bony cages;tremor softly
PK Wakefield Mar 2011
cheeks came heavy
resolute of cherry blotches
some rough candy
between their blossomed chunks
sugary sourly
imbued so cleaving mine own
with that writhing
miraculously specific tongue
PK Wakefield Mar 2010
these hands of mine

so much strength

these hands of mine

create?
destroy?

these hands of mine
PK Wakefield Aug 2012
city, i have not
for summer been in you,
as snared by
sleeping careful ivy

the surge
and hush of pairing
day emitted
from,

a long opaque
beauty
thats cough is a
dark blossom
holding dim
studs of barest neon

something more than infinitely lovelier

for though summer
i have not been in you

          city

as snared by ivy
sleeping carefully
PK Wakefield May 2010
clean toothed fascination:
   where in what do you see
your hideous perfection rising
sublime fists, raining terrible
love laughing onto correct cheeks?

it hurts so when you touch my face
scribble painful eloquent filigree

i elected you to blossom purple puddles
  drowning eyes. lash out craven son.

but know this: i will bathe you in my beautiful
violence screaming burst membranes across
   the breadth of your fiber loaded structure

                                 sleeping
at
                   my
horrible

                              whim
PK Wakefield Dec 2010
;              climb incidentally a towering flat
   at struggling veneration's rawest berry              so scarlet a holly droplet
in manifolds of sage
                                          a sundered drooping door
i'm carefully falling porcelain                              sheeted hammers
       languid health    a protein          remarkably nascent    fronds spun
g,Ol
       den denting     vine
PK Wakefield Apr 2010
enormously tiny
(amorphous)
white idea

you sat

in Cerulean
comfort
holding ephemeral
puffy-ness

wield your cottony skin
PK Wakefield Dec 2010
cold                                                                                                                         it,s.
       fluid hard apathy,
the sky drank lubed heat
                                             pasted frosty hands
and
          gargled chirping rushes
                                                        a brown
stiffly
                                                                                       who's arms hold
            fussy ******
                                                      a book is patiently
palm loaded notation

                                             machiavelli

           today,
PK Wakefield Apr 2010
from
boyish lips
slips
witty words
(full of empty) -ness

slap
at girlish
ears

hoping to find purchase
on
a
l
abaster
thoughts

(while only concerned
with) up
skirts
(what is)
PK Wakefield Sep 2010
thrice the bell is talking bronze skin over the
courtyard young cells.

                 soporific

wagging skirts, the measured abstraction of laughing
blond hair. by wet scalps busting through the air
impulsed to dry halls unloud
whispered learning. droll and fleet, a mouth boorishly
pouting a bed of weak ideal knowledge
to lay, to prone, in its verbal belly a thrashing distaste

                      they're

                 so
bored

                                   gooutside
flat feeted lady's . the golden dead trees beckon
with gaunt branches failing drips

                       why am i?in this little box
PK Wakefield Jan 2012
come earth
come flushly
come trees
come birds
come all warm living heat
come frothing leaves and grass
come oceans brimming deepest
come able breaths of god
come creation
come body
come soul
come all rightness; all rawness; all bleeding and kissing
come hurt
come pain sorely and pleasure elated
come knees greenly sooted in the Summers virginal lush embrace
come lovers
come clear crystal nights
come drunken muddled nights
come stars
come lips and cheeks
come arms
come hearts
come urge
come increase
come wilt
come rind
come life
come death
come all things simple
come all things complex
come all
come everything
come and i will meet you
come and i will greet you
come and i will touch your bodies with my bodies
come and i will brush the lewd breaking dirt of you with the clean sturdy skin of my body
come and i will know you
come and you will know me
come O soft careless husk of amorous purple spring
come lilting
come graceful careful colours of flowers blossoming
come sun
come light
come women
come men
come **** ample female things
come mothers
come children
come into each distinct infinite freckle of the days agreeable self
come churches
come houses
come hovels and shanties
come love(and hate even)
come each thing and i will kiss you and i will tangle the crass and the beauteous in the immutable soul of my flesh
come and make
come and do
come and live
come and rejoice

All things good
All things evil
(nothing was ever either wholly
even holy neither)
All things studious
All things slack
All things fair
All things ugly

(the world's a body innumerable
a body complete
a voice and sinew
and to each great
frolicking kind bit
and to each meek
cowering mean bit
we are all
and everyone of us is
we contain every creation
every destruction
every birth
every immolation)so let's reconcile our own flesh with it
                                 and let's meet it squarely
                                 let's fit into it's cracks snugly
                                 and let's kiss each grain of sand
                                 let's love it
                                 let's become it
                                 (for it was always us
                                 and we were always it)
                                 (and i know it)
PK Wakefield Jul 2012
come hearts 2

                             softly

                                          


                       2



                                       hearts


             splayed of


                                            ribs



        ­                   twained



                 of breast




                                             2




                        hearts




             in2(1
PK Wakefield Nov 2011
come know me moon

     (know me quickly)

in my bed know me
your smoothness will
enamor and your fullness
will burst with silver
fur crawling out the
sharpness of your belly

i'll eat you
and i'll have
you in my body
and i'll just come
cleanly perfect and
naked i'll dance on the
gnarled bending forest
of **** tress in your waxing
*****(under your ******* moon)
the small creeping pool of your stomach
astounds darkness and you brightly bristle
with freckles and laughter and you'll jiggle

            perfectly

                                climbing
                                                        
             the
                                   night
PK Wakefield Nov 2011
come laughing sun
(the earth likes you

             thighs akimbo

it pulls down hotly on
it)
                 into it

the earth and sun
       they are like for restless
             lovers they tussle
                         and ****
                                 those 2 tongues
mingle and bind
   my body and me
      1 to the other
        (like the earth on sun
         )but nights pretty 2
                                            2
                                  Pretty night
                       sometimes U got me
                        wanting you got me
                          (and i do))iwantyou)cuz you're so deep and speckled glimmering
                                                               (and in your chest you've got
                                                                that one enormous bobble
                                                                so lush and radiant it pulls
                                                                my cheeks leaping
                                                                up to meet its softly
                                                                and every all of me
                                                                shatters smoothly set
                                                                forever in its boughs)

(and i am more beautiful than dying is forever. i am like impossible unbroken light. in the moon and O,
                                                                                                                                                                                .
                        
                                                                                                                                                                                      '
                                                                                                                          


                                                                                                                                                                      !)
PK Wakefield May 2010
comes what of this:

          pink exhaustion
             ?
some shallow tract of nicks
neck scratched clean
& puddles of symmetry
line the frame still

           breathe flexing tiny
freckles shoulder wrought silk;
(a chalice so well tuned. blood song
   symphony)

repose exanimate former pleasure cutter

          you
PK Wakefield Apr 2012
cool you
feel like drunk
with poppies air
and you crawl up
into fathomless miles
of Summer mornings you
creep with vine and thistle
you latticed with ivy groan
with young muscles tight against
bone and joint you ceaseless merry
golden and rough silken breaths of
dawn you are fine and pale and you
have nice shoulders and feel like Spring
inside you feel like wet and perfectly fits
me inside of you there is just enough room for me
PK Wakefield Apr 2011
could what be more beautiful
than, unbound, ivory fingers
caving tingling
filigree complete and softly
intricate on the mechanism
breathing dying
in spRing slowly handstitani(
)cally imp there feathering
living smiling
big chestnut eyes the summers
got about her face a lot like
glinting shying
the star scaled meter of the
last night i was in with
you. where we were forever
scalding lying
PK Wakefield Jun 2010
cup the rouge loaded cheeks

           in perfect stillness
  and
marry her lips a soft pink lash

                    of
PK Wakefield Dec 2011
curl upon my words lady
your fragile strongness

             your
     firm and quaking ultimate mouth

(the hottest slash o' pleasure
leakinginto
                    mymouth
                                     you're)
cheek
          a    n     dcheekbe
                                         tw
                                                 ee
                                                  n
                                           h
                                     a
                             n
                                     g
                                                s A strand o' lace
                                                       and i dig my
                                                       fingers into them
                                                       and pry, by naked
                                                       furious hands, that
                                                       last trace of unnudity
                                                       (and i pull you up to my face(your startled perfect ***)a     n             dd ie,
                                                                                                                                                                                     .
                                                                                                                                                                                         ,

                                                                                                                                                                                  .
d
PK Wakefield Jul 2010
d
softly
         and deep
                           and
                                    infinitely
and on and on and on
the night yawns  strenuous  **** limbs
uncoiled precisely fingers splayed groping the
hillocks. and loves the land with gentle laps
of the moons tongue. refreshed wholly with pleasure.
       pale towers undescent pillaring dully.
and the flaccid dawn scallops the piles of mountains.
    or about the lips, whom the (day sprays dew), glistening
on the cheeks. and i go quivering between its ivory legs. kissing
         her flexing belly. exactly arched. lip biting.

                                                                 emoc
                                                    rehtih; hither coming
giddy mystery.
                                  pumping string. gasping on my stomach.

                    naked sliver grin for me.
PK Wakefield May 2010
daring nightmare treason dapple
creeping dark withering day chaff
    starling; cast a frail song sharply
into redrimmed ears
                                             telracs
                                 dekcen
                        raor
                           !
sly mirroring the captivating decay
                of this slain
        day
PK Wakefield Apr 2011
Darkness,
                                                                                                           in sometimes
                                                                                                           sitting aming
                                                                                                         areing
                                                                                                             ising
                                                                                                                   i'm
                                                                                                             from glades
                                                                                                          of chastely tiny
                                                                                                         beads pink
                                                                                                      about
                                                                                                                my eyes
                                                                                                      immeasurably
                                                                                                              welt slow
                                                                                                    moisture
                                                                                                             at this
         very




























































­

















                       a.
PK Wakefield Apr 2010
on the (tender)
tips of
soft pink
lips
quivers
darkness
first
aching kiss

"takeme
takeme
takeme
takeme
takeme"

;whispers
i
(t)
PK Wakefield Apr 2010
the dawn did that stabbing
dark skin; running golden
chromatic blood
over rough hewn shoulders
jutting from inky dark pockets

claret slithers over drips(ing)
hills
the silent breathed noisy
sleep into every eye
that wasn't plucked from errant skulls

just like that
it kissed her whoreish
laughter bubbling through the seams in quiet

i miss her
PK Wakefield May 2011
deeply so, have ever you thought, on a moment that you thought you knew
it? have you ever thought of
     Summer with her flush
     amber skin just bursting
     almost apricot thick
     colours professing
      out her richly thatched
      mouth in between the
      lips of seraphs
      oceans of wind that
in which a frond is bending, just almost breaking bending, in the
immense touching blood of blades of sand and grains of grass
who slough from brows of aching partings
and sore graftings.

                                                                        in  yourself  think ever you Did
                                                                        the arms of your lover
                                                                 against stiffly you clutched who
                                                                      lean ribs, who in them beats
                                                                      mornings of song little a
                                                                      filled with drifting fuzzy
                                                                 daughters lazy wood's cotton

?
  in summer i went to seattle and down to its neck i drew my hands
and around them i was a sweating magic light full and a blister
of smiling residue; my grin was like a girl put my tongue in her mouth
and she pulled me real close and her bumps rumpled on my bumps
and we were real slow and hot and she was gross and perfect and long
and i remember how she's scalp was like a small black jungle
that my fingers (as her teeth were like little ****** of tingling all over
my scent) marauded around the profusion of her dazzling locks
which mocked the night who was contumelious at how they made love
with,andMurdered, whate'er foolish lance or drape of light was foolish
enough to touch with them. her hair was a serious fierce laughter. and
it filled right me up. right up to my pooling blood foolishly her face
was a goddess and i was a lamb.
PK Wakefield Apr 2012
deep with kissing easy trees Spring
wells like blood between the imminent
corpse of day where pennyeyed kittens
and ladybugs mingle with the deliberate
breath of the earth a flower meagerly strives
fragile homely limp and flush Spring languishes
an instant collected warmly into the salient brush
of ******* tingling abruptly pricking a loose cotton
with marble hard ******* round rosey cheecked apple
blossoms in Spring hang briefly like youth without youth
Spring i draw your quivering uglywonderful mouth to my
mouth and creep into your winsome shrill maw my blood
PK Wakefield Apr 2010
hot to the touch
like
glowing metal

little bikes
with
tiny pedals

i'll smell your rose
but
eat the petals
PK Wakefield Apr 2010
i may be maybe be
he
that which is
(and isn't)

both: that
or This

an i
and we

the center and th
e boundary

inseparately separate

physically meta

i wish i wish i
could
define
that thing that
i
call:

me
PK Wakefield May 2010
didst
thy ever faceless father
   denote the plateau
whereupon the dream drugged
        childs of Morpheus
wander? so well did this traveler
                                      make
           a cough of starry
  conquered nights i begged his name
afore he maketh for another
   lipless realm of abstract clouds
disheveled leaves kissing scattered
       drops of light;
"patron of articulate fantasies, love not the skin of others slumber"

                              "be patient
                        son of dusky flesh,
                                   anon
                              i shall be again
                          another supreme dusty
   sleep. so lay thy head well and make merry my return"
PK Wakefield Mar 2011
did you know that a dynamic first cluttered light spilt about and smattered the various golden brimming lip of earth gilt in ******* bolts of mountain fat and even their ridiculous shoulders couldn't stop the dawn from treading succinctly marvelous sporadic flare
PK Wakefield Apr 2010
i opened up my head and poured out all my notions on stark gold that spoke with bleeeding candor.

It say, "what errant light is this silver profusion? wanders from distant shores to touch thy shimmering flesh."

i gibbered deliquescent
PK Wakefield Jul 2011
do corpses ever(inboxesdeeply              )
long for smelling roses
or the wiggling light of
saturday afternoons
when their lover came
early a bit unexpectedly
fantastically finding them
nothing doing and took
their body in softly hands
shaking perfectly the morsels
of their flesh on top of the
kitchen counter gruffly
gentle
             ?
PK Wakefield Sep 2011
do even reams of woods ? black as steeply whispering trees
                                                  (in dreams they do)
they speak creeping boughs
over laughter 'neath them
the dirt between their toes
                                                                                                     The
                                                                                                             Very earth
                                                                                                              Is their laughing
                                                                                                     The  
                                                                                                              Birthed vegetation
                                                                                                              Swayed slightly
                                                                                                                                                       by the hand of wind
                                                                                                                                                       and night so hewed
                                                                                                                                                       by pins from out her
                                                                                                                                                       they sparkle savagely
                              i walk
                                            , the earth upholds,
                                                                                   i am contained by nothing




                                                                                   ;
                                                               .
PK Wakefield May 2010
do guilty flowers ever sin so savage
as the current elocution of cells
erecting a magic ***** on the saturday
saturated morning she drew
her
lacy clutch 'bout my sinew flecked
artifice
hips2hips
                     i
give her this:                           ME
PK Wakefield Apr 2012
do the dead know a thing i know they do
they know how nice nothing feels in a pile
of earth beneath sleeping in pine or up in
the air ash mingling with pollen on a
svelte summer eve sick with young hearts
hungry to **** into each other sublime
homely darling eyes with no thoughts of
what might come after they lay up into
infinite dreamless eaves their sore mouths
(but the dead know they know how nice
nothing feels like a luckier to be alive feeling
they don't know a thing (but I know they do))
PK Wakefield Mar 2010
drizzled with beads
of shimmering light
you cry like a god
as you writhe
in the night
PK Wakefield Dec 2010
do writhe and hue the absolute walls of thy slanderous landscape
burping turgidly a draft of flexing notation
and i cup thy lyrics in their burning varnish
)a sea scalloped with drunk wondering breath
         )inexorable limber teeth chomp gloriously the pale bit
of dapper sunlight
      peaking bravely
afore his bashful explosion
on                                                 the hard water
patiently housed by your ungilt frame

                               my crumb most luscious a fair fairy of murdered perfection
                         thou art all the excellence. herein contained this pathetic
welt of humanity. i am ever only
    

             ,          
      
                             so far a star        in your onyx vestige

and more


                  and more



                                 and




                                                   more
e
PK Wakefield Jul 2010
e
as usual a
                           b
                                      o
                                                u
t

me goes the supple trunks. thralling ribbons.
collapse;doi to the clutch of soft roots stupidly and muscles.
more now lightning strings coruscate ardently loving the earth.
vibrate femininity suddenly

            correct in my winter. hot petals meddle in the snow. and melt.

                                            i'm not who i wasn't
         or who
i am.                         frosted. but calmly:ami unfreezing in cup of dainty

    p
a
     l
  m   (s.he)  is the heat.
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