swim in the redness of the fruitility
that leaks itself like perched pedals
falling
exuberent/ burgundy
pale and translucent like the water in pure places
from your
wrists

tuned into the old jukebox
laughter shining things like
why wasnt I around when this was invented
right here, eyes pressed upon that sky
belittled, torn like a rag placed upon a tree of thorns
then tugged

reality breaks the seal
people put up shutters to block out the noise
they knew it wouldnt hit hard
but these animals think they are of some greater
power

its my turn, thoughts scatter like ants on the dining table
I grab my Q and gently hit the 8 ball, I remember when that man told me
to always go soft arrogance never got nobody somewhere good
I miss
was that a lie
?

perched on the stool going into reclusion in mind
what if
what if
the world was filled with nothing but
sylvia, anne, khalil, ghandi, Vincent Millay,
olds, ginsberg, abraham, lennon

what if our energies never fluctuated
in the nervous patterns that lead to the
exhaustion and you never let yourself fall
into that place we as writers promised to never
be,
driven far from complexities
tuned into conventional
inspired, but not really inspired

I bow my head farewell
smiles brought forth to my lips
as the positive is extracted
stable lives
t.v nights
no fights

redeemed when looking in the mirror
touching
your cheeks
rubbing your thumb on your lower
lip, examining all of those things that make you woman
that make you beautiful

everyone is beautiful
lovely tunic in their own way
let it be one small characteristic
one disposable action
one smile is a charity given

pride presents wistful sayings of abloshied tyranny hidden between
your gracious lovers and those 3 stars viewable from any place in the world
men with eyes full of hatred glanced upon them
children with tears in their souls

I loosened the knots of active  promiscuity drawn on the
face of the most indistinguishable and demonic paintings
hung in the highest places in my living room/ I burned the house
ambrosia dripping along my legs,
your mascara, scarred on my fingers
lipstick smeared on vintage walls fill the narrow
hallways in the bones of beasts sitting in high trees
in the alabaster forests of our dreams

laying so still, motionless
afraid to speak a word
one finger might break your skin
then eyes light
and smiles are emitted
like beautiful wedding nights
where its raining, no clouds
and a full moon

depart fruitful stances
I sit dreary in the airport
what summer love may summer bring
upon me, discreet soul
blackened tongues
long nights, made short
gags and hands thrown in the sky
kiss you
pretty
goodnight.

I walk away from the pool table, lost second time in a row
who cares, I have time to get better
maybe next time I should halt random infusions
pause my unstable mind
for a poets thoughts such things are considered
a crime