skinnyhips
breaknice
onpetal's
singe,elated
dancethe
washof
summe­r'sgiddy
stomachtanned
taughtlush
faultlessribbon
ofAsmile
(singl­e)                 sings
                                
                         of

                                cheeks

                          ******

                                 with
                        
                      green


                                mint


                         and



                    taste




                                like





                             gold

.                                                                ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­                      

























                 ­                                                                 ­                                you
                             ­                                                                 ­                     me
















.

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

(      i  can  feel   )

tight within

      (release
                     )

muscles that
tense

upon    fiber

music     blu

as with   red
fills

            filled


thick in dark
(between
bars of
sallow
starlight–



                   breath

in inching

columns of


                   sweat
                   sweat
                   sweat;


skybreathinghandsapartkissthighsinsidesplitcurvingdeath

in you let
                   colours
                                   sing colours

say colours
                      of thy body
                                            of thy throat

sing and let colours of thy body and thy throat
loose them and become a whole thing more
perfect than human thing only; becoming more
let and let and let
                                 till they are exhausted

till you are spent of them
                                               till rages nothing in thee

let

           and
                          let
                              
                                        and


                                                             let



the colours of thy body and thy throat

i just feel beautifully

       inside

as a word
                       i strive

                                      to
                                              say

                                                      (but never can)

does swoon?O river you
nimble
                 wet

and completely
                             tongue

pink
            underwear
            (underwhere?)
              Underthere
              
                  splitfoiled
                          tousledskirt

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

                        a bird sings

dirt over clean

                           sweat lovers

sting
              and
                        sting

you.re like me not like me you.re exactly
nothing precisely like me

                                               just nothing
                                               at all
                                               everything like me
                                               you.
                                               re
                                               j
                                               U
                                              s
                                               t
                                                 like me
                                                 (not)

a heart completes, by preferred effort of word, vague love
over sea (many boys always) teeming
yearning with lust

                                   as
                                          I

uncoy, notshy, approach, baby, to ask you darling
might you also like to

                                           ****

palest inch of human health
who fringed at the edges with
hurting and raw pink a little
like a tulip on the faintly
murdered hush of caving night
is slick with wetness
                      
                   (petals, stem, and earth)

digs a root into breathless miles
of rich, wanting,

                                  dirt

i would, perhaps, a 1,000 folded lips
crease into 1
                       kiss

the venom of thy cheeks
a smooth immolation

              REDpretty

with white beneath
neatly in rows
                                   that sharp
                  
         but



feel good

nice and
                ,

           .

                ,


   .

there is only one and still there is only one. it beats and stutters and
there is only one and in the open breathing pasture of my palm infinite
and only one. it smiles it is. it is clever and warm and gentle or. it
is the only pulse strong pumping trembling tremendous heart blooming
staggering incredibly exploding scarlet. it's it is... the one. the only
one. it is mine

& who o          sh                             slippery bunting breath
god softly numbed
                                  ardent sickly tongues
         a night ambrosia
all the world was nestled senseless meat
but higglywiggly the wind went slumping
                                                                              over
ever
                   dreaming brow

up

                                                    into

                                                                  oceans

                                               stumbling(oceans)i

                        ceaseless folding waters

                        toil with the wind

                        for nearly i dream upon

                        them sweetly

                        they like sort of you

                        and unlike you

                        they like your body

                        swallow my body

                        into them

night come hands
(briefly with tulips)
beneath infinitely
moon sliver
your star freckled
******* are and my
hands between breathing
cuddle and ****
funny how staggers
the curves of your
hips with silver and
gushing thick flowers

perhaps tulips perhaps
ivory and petals silken and wet
with your tongue
nightandhands coming
with ******* and pallid
and skin
(beneath infinitely tulips)

       and apple trees

we are mostly tedious                                                          ­                                    .
glaring dashes of thick                                                            ­      '
minutia trifling to and fro                                              '
in mental coffins                                                          ­   ,
                                  we like to wear                           '
                                                               ­  as chains of,

by the hours' split (and half of that) the wasted marble (her head) discharged, of her oblong thrusting voice, to shamble quickly silence fingers gruffly wringing all the necks of loud and it was also. it was blithe

anon


                               what dreams may
          spread effortless poesy on the sheet of my bed

                  and

sleep softly stunning in the rapture of the night

brief fragile eternity
you are amongst the heaped postures of my thoughts
and if idle i idly return

as in my bed or car(any placid grain
revolve to fore and captivate largely
my anxious floating fingers

             of)my mind

bursting on your slippery

            

                                                                                   forever

of hand, precariously clutched, a heart; demure or pulsing angles richly scarlet. a rose, petals unbent open breathing. to thee, a promise, of hands(my hands. swear them and their means. my lady softly you are grace and everything...

the deep easy mountains are a supple apparatus
in indigo talking rain, they plead for small quiet
sounds who have no bones but skin that wears
the day. a fleeting gilded crest it rolls and chocolate
muttering trunks in the forest standing against
the callous lily supremely piercing the azure
lock of sky. and the amorphous gray gullet smeared
upon it's cobalt heat is gently vomiting wetness

it wAS i came by nervous steed
over valley and time to a stream
trickling sickly between your *******
; and it was

          it was

my mouth; and tongue: a RiveR.
questioning her skinny pride

              and taken

my limpid bride

you                                    r
crimson; instrument
(beat
beneath) bone
i'd
like 2
call
its environs
my                                      n      e       w
home

in the unhurried hardening
      the cavity
          of
slightly
              murdered light
is the pale word of your
         gently belly

          and


the small question of your

            hideously


                                                          AwAke?!

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

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

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

      unfurled
                         your grandest burning luscious dilating SCARLET

crimson little lake break
where there

          (sigh)

"again"

emits

           twixt


thigh and thigh

           apart

suddenly when

17 "please  ?      "

never be impressed

Do you? who in marble stillness,
(thus reposed) under shade of
buckled trees and heavens hand
would with thee let me lay and
into quiet charging gushing
stiffly ever and

        for
ever;

in common air i breath this city
it,s stretching streets beneath
cobalt languidly pouring

in every sound of it is me
and in every snuggle of
its abrupt colours is me

(it is usually me
but sometimes
it is me) who knows?(i know
                                                   )i contradict myself
                                                     i am a contradiction
                                                     i (transforming) constantly transpose
                                                     i over the snaking hotter asphalt
                                                     in rivers serpentine
                                                     cuddling my souls
                                                     my converse
                                                     me , i ,
                                                     into summer's bright hands
                                                     am a flock of colours electric
                                                     and a single bird
                                                     roosting in darkness
                                                     the night consuming

in sleeping waking
i wake in sleeping
as sleep is waking

in the nice hollow
of dust and lightning
teetering softly
(aloft the feathers of
laughing flowers
deeply flowers
smiling sneering flowers)
in the crook of arms
nestled suddenly
in heaps of sighing flesh

i wake to sleeping
as sleep is waking
(thinking dreaming)
in plumes of colour rich
on the din of atoms
that is this self

i'll tell you hurt beautiful freshly
skinned knee stinging
on the warm failure
of a Summer day
i'll tell you that it's all right

            ('cause i love you)

like behind mountains
summer slowly Falls
one colour of its face
runs with original
gorgeous irrelevant
and too becomes
cooler slowly ( each new whim of cheeks brinded
                           crisply utters leaves about the rust
                           failing light which gathers 'bout
                           the nape of columns against the
                           moon they grumble with the fresh
                           dithering stammers of Autumn, "you
                           little death i think you look so much
                           better in your cadaver" to which i
                           climb the air to stars a filigree of
                           nubile clinging darkness

it breaks
(just so
like a skinned knee
gently lapping
cool
       s
          t
                ing
             i
               n
         g
laden BreaTHS                                                 ,                                                  )

you're bloods so
and i put my
finger
          right
in it i dip
it right into
you're blood
so
    and

against sky feet
tread just nicely
and don't falling
(for in each step
contained love
buoys ecstatically)

will you eat me magic?

will you get inside me
hot and press against
my heart your heart?

and will you, magic,
dearly touch and
burn me singeing
with your velvet
lips, magic, my skin?

magic, i, would kiss thee
each portion
each parcel of thy
body i would imbue
with the unstern soft
rub of my mouth magic

i would give you all
the perfect mess
of my soul
and i would
sing a forest for thee

i would say a season
(like Spring) i would
say a small warm day
next to the vibrant
quiver of a lake i
would take you in
my heart i would
carry you in every
scarlet pulse of it

and

           i

                would

                                   love

                                                you

                                                                 Magic

harder biging
flowing digging
a river is hardly
adept
with numerous
able tongues

the land through
,with slithering,
rumpus silver

gloats
or meanders
      unquickly a cordial slump of wet and wet
                                                                                                                   to comment
                                                                                               early lately
                                                                             bending
                                                            straights
                                          of lumpy
                            smooth
         orchestral
(
  )
   )
     (
        8

Receive ever

                           hands totally

                                                       open

                      
                                                                     other hands all

                                                                                                  hands even

                                                                                                                        with love and a smile
                                                                                                                                                               A


                                                                                                                                                                L




                                                                                                                                                                W





                                                                                                                                                                 Y





                                                                                                                                                                  S

i'm
      

             a
  

    
                    little

                             bit


                        love

                           with


                                     you

it's hard
being yourself
really
          yourself
the whole
ugly perfect
thing it's
tough and
garbled and
it's hard
looking right
into the eyes
of those who
know you
and, being
yourself,

being

somewhat i
am a spacious blade

with infinite
thrusting prowess

into the
cool fist o' mystery

and run
it hot bleeding

dreaming you, have you been sleeping when you've been dreaming?
in nooks quietly smeared cooly draped in shadows mostly
from hidden the arduous sun you lovely dreaming you
(crawling from your softness breathing does
small lunges of your chest
and your risenfalling *******)
i just took a shower and your open laying frame lays in coiling sinuous ruffles
and i trundling under the sheets and about your smallness close and we, just

are you quickness?and muscles sore from last night
when we met we inside blue softly metal(wheels adorned
and i cupped your cropped short raven finger tousled
pulling your excellent blossoming eternal face to my
finite ugly wilting face and we ate, from each furious
clasp, fruit more sweet

I am not myself
nor were I; know a thing
this body's just fantasy
this mind but a dream

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

i like a sweetness
and but
       a savoryness
                too
and sometimes the other

   more than the one

do i suppose to know a thing?
(i don't know it)

                            but
    supposing
                           i
                    
                                  do

     what

                     then?