the thing about mistakes
is that nothing
feels
better than
when you're making
them
blissfully unaware
of unforeseen
consequences

that i've been reading your poetry
(on the new front page)
and,

I ******* love
your words; your worlds;
it's like i'm,
    there. right there,
with you.

you see, i didn't do what you do--
         write my story aloud
--when i was fifteen, or even twenty-two

just an inch off the ground
                        i confided in clouds
stayed lost (was a puff too proud)

that was then, sure, but even today
   (it's 11:11, now)
putting any of it down
committing to this word, not that
this sentiment,
      not that
this meaning
       (and not simultaneously that)
              is walking through fire

and so, for leading the way
           let me just say,
                       i love you

and please,
don't ever stop.

We all have
a story
and rumor
has it that
the more
scars
you collect
the more
wronged
you are
the higher the chances
are of you winning
the Prize
and I hear it's
a good one.
So take that pain
take that sorrow
impale it on your
words
and let it
bleed
bleed
bleed
into something
more beautiful
and more permanent
than pain.

Old rugged jeans
I couldn't throw away
Because in it's tiny little pockets
I am keeping, the pieces
of broken dreams
and broken us

She took off her dress. She had long black hair, a pale face, slanted
green eyes, greener than the sea. She was beautifully formed, with high
*******, long legs, a stylized body. She knew how to swim better than any
other woman on the island. She slid into the water and began her long easy
strokes towards Evelyn.*
Anais Nin, Mallorca

Letter from Anais Nin To Sean


Every stroke is like the foundation
of Adam you pound and twist.
Make your **** shift from inner
to outer space. That way when you lift
you are not empty, while the air
above your *** has a crisp outline
--movements down inner thigh
easy to sway, a lilt almost, dark
reservoir where you are satisfied
before it happens, as you wait
anticipating that several blink.


Letter from Sean to Anais

When i kiss, my lips are tender and nibble
and my breath sweet can be heard in
that autumn forest as a river runs
down your spine; you are a mouth that licks
the back of my hand nibbling on my fingers
while I find the crease of your *****
and liberate the edges. You're a lovely,
fertile reef where impossible swans
hold my **** within the fireworks
spoken as light storms remember
the reflected grace of your mouth
and eyes when we stare into that abyss
that never stops so wonderful ***
rides our back to an ancient sea
forgotten when the tide pools break.


2. Anais

She had long black hair and when she spoke
the hair covered her eyes, and you cleared them
by brushing the strands back, slipping your ideal
into her mouth, her long legs drawn against your
anticipation of some deep distress when you finish
later, a great shark of a ship hunting the strokes,
spliting the pearl clam open with your
simple breathing foaming hurricanes,
when they reach half-way suddenly still --
the anchor falls through the splash
raging down our street released
to an undetermined depth.

Roses, their sharp spines being gone,
Not royal in their smells alone,
  But in their hue;
Maiden pinks, of odour faint,
Daisies smell-less, yet most quaint,
  And sweet thyme true;

Primrose, firstborn child of Ver;
Merry springtime’s harbinger,
  With her bells dim;
Oxlips in their cradles growing,
Marigolds on death-beds blowing,
  Larks’-heels trim;

All dear Nature’s children sweet
Lie ‘fore bride and bridegroom’s feet,
  Blessing their sense!
Not an angel of the air,
Bird melodious or bird fair,
  Be absent hence!

The crow, the slanderous cuckoo, nor
The boding raven, nor chough ****,
  Nor chattering pye,
May on our bride-house perch or sing,
Or with them any discord bring,
  But from it fly!

my father is a fortified man 
with dark, verdant eyes 
that shame the forest moss
that burn harsh and cold
seeing through deception 
honest, stern, but fair

my mother is a gentle woman
with soft, cerulean eyes 
that transcend the clearest sea
that glow bright and warm 
always saying the right thing 
tolerant, caring, but unwavering 

and I was born with that azure gaze 
though mine is not same 
on half my left eye
a drop of my father's jade 
and so I see the world 
as an even balance 
through both my parents eyes