The seedy ****** here were ungrateful, hateful
With my giving loving rainbow drops

Now I know the ugly huminz need mustard seed facefulls
To plug their noisy orifices up

Good thing I'm not into sinus ****
At least, not yet

Do better, stupid humins
Or you'll come to know the taste of de luge

Daydreaming of quality time, alone.
Diving into bush pools and rivers,
sun-soaked,
wet rocks under-***,
hair slick down back,
drip on shoulders;
stronger now there’s nothing
holding me down.

Down I dive,
further- deep into peace.
I’ll eat air and drink my own laughter in gulps until I’m drunk
and fall off my rock
right back in the water-fallen ripples
again.

Let the tui talk and the fantails walk
behind me,
as I make my own naked trail
through fairy-forest vines,
over moss-mounds and thick roots.

With no cars, I can climb,
every tree is my castle,
every branch a limb
to protect me.

I’ll barefoot tumble down a Pinetree *****,
carve my poems into soft-bark trunks,
let the wind fuel my fire.

After I ate,

You...

     I asked for a napkin...


You slapped me!!


      At least I finished my meal.

The rain resembles the pitter-patter of your words.
Each droplet— a syllable.
The chill— your breath.

I trace the streams of water
trickling down the windowpane
the same way I yearn
to run my fingers
down your skin.
I breathe in the scent wafting off the soil
and my insides warm.
The grey skies are calming,
yet electric,
as your gaze.
The drumming on the rooftop
whispers me to sleep,
gently,
as I allow my mouth to form around
the precipice of your name.
I can almost taste you.

I'm flooded with my longing to bury myself in you.

Drown me in your storm.
Drench me with your words.

Don’t let the medium dry
Moisten This Creation                                   
by ANY MEANS necessary

It’s vulnerable

For This Creation to become pedestal WE MUST :

feed it
off of a capillary bag

mist it
under a dense healthy breath

lead it
to suckle an engorged breast

For
IF WE DO NOT
we risk it becoming husk ;
good only for digs and dust shops.

For This Creation, WE MUST queue

with our blood tapped
and ready

our breeding fluids
our various flows carefully labelled
and in sterile pouches

our donor cards filled out
steady for sacrifice

Keep This Creation wet
and it shall be a beacon
a call to awareness
a beckon of craft for us all
and not some common art-hole
In time THE CREATION SHALL SERVE US

someone else?
someone same?
a person, still?
a person, sane?

dry me out
critique is that
which denies
tangential arcs

do you
see me
trying?

if a meat
will be a meat
i will be
wet as i can

in the  rain
i walk with you
an orange stained sky
cloudy and dusty
with nothing but grey ahead of us
rain
soaks my clothes
my hair
my heart
yet
i'm warm
and covered
with the misty,
heavy
rain.
and you laugh
and stick out your tongue
and i do
and the sky does
and i walk home with you
in the rain.