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 Dec 2013 Wolf
Alaska
My imagination runs wild with thoughts of you.
Your footsteps forever embedded in the sand of the beach that is my mind.
"Why sleep?" I used to ask myself.
Now I crave sleep, for in my dreams we can spend an eternity together.
We are not what people say we are, or what we say we are.
We are lovers, dreamers, stowaways, addicts.
We will live on and love on forever,
In our own little infinity.

{alaska}
 Dec 2013 Wolf
Lee
You ever wake up in the middle of the night real thirsty, and so you go downstairs, or across the house, or whatever, to get somethin' to drink. When you get there you know you don't want water, cause water's got no flavor, but you don't have any juice, and its too late f'r tea or coffee. And you **** sure ain't got any of that bitchmade caffeine free herbal **** either, so you're just left with water, so you drink it even if you don't wantu. Then you start feelin' real upset and dissatisfied what with the fact that you just had to drink water, but then you start to feel bad about feeling bad about "only" havin' water, what on account of all them little starvin' children and whatnot, so you decide to drink a whole nother glass just out of spite towards the little ******* who made you feel that way, determined as hell be grateful as **** this time, but it still don't work. Don't work at all. So you just go upstairs, or across the hall, or the house or whatever, all bloated from like forty ounces of lukewarm tap water and you just lay down all bloated and dissatisfied and sad and questioning the meaning of your terribly mediocre existence. Then you start to feel really down, and questioning like the meaning of things that don't need to be questioned and all. 'En by the time it's gettin' round to like 5 in the morning you realize none of this would have happened if you at least had juice. Hell even koolaid, but it's to late now and you're still all bloated and sad and you just fall asleep cursin' juice and all the ******' different kinds of fruit that make it, and made you feel this way, what on account of the transitive property. Ya well, what I'm trying to say here is, **** fruit, its the reason I'm so Go'**** unhappy.
I tell the truth,
My lies are real.
They're as solid as,
Titanium steel.
You can trust me,
With all your secrets.
From shallow,
To the deepest.
No, I promise,
I've changed.
Everything's already arranged.
People were talking,
That's weird.
None of your secrets,
Have I shared.
No,
Please,
Don't leave.
You can
Trust me.
 Nov 2013 Wolf
Denise Levertov
Eros
 Nov 2013 Wolf
Denise Levertov
The flowerlike
animal perfume
in the god’s curly
hair —

don’t assume
that like a flower
his attributes
are there to tempt

you or
direct the moth’s
hunger —
simply he is
the temple of himself,

hair and hide
a sacrifice of blood and flowers
on his altar

if any worshipper
kneel or not.
 Nov 2013 Wolf
Lee
“It’s all *******."
She mouthed
cocking a drunken head and lighting a broken cigarette.

                                up,
                 ­         up,  
I looked her up,        
and down again.      

"Between just us
us friends
it'll be fine
just fine in the-"

"I know."
As she looked away
she showed me soft grace
a wrinkled nose and tired eyes
posture of those patron saints.

I poured out two gins
taking both
she smiled.
Both gone
She saved
not a single, sip.

"You're beautiful"
I mumbled
and
she smirked.

Made upward movement
taking a lucky
she brought fire
up to the tip.

Lips pursed together
tongue pushing spit out
toward and around the dirt
at my fumbling feet.

When we were done,
the smoke clinging
to those auburn curls.
She lay back arching.
Those fluttered eyes,
drove my aching muscles,
reaching for her open smile,
as, with slippery digits
I played our sighs together.

Petting
heavy
heavy as the world sitting
on my worried head.
Watch it crack under pressure
The gory puddle of my expressions
in her lap.
Please compare it to the first draft and tell me which you like better and for what reasons if any.
 Nov 2013 Wolf
Lysander Gray
We are the eternal marriage
Of blood and mind.
The saints in their rapture
Ne'er held eyes as sweet
Nor hands that unearthed a homecoming.

But I, lost among the found
Stranger in A strange land
Have but the dawn to spin for your veil
And each star forged in the host of man,
Will take your cheek only to gift a kiss
Upon your lips.

With surf stained sigh
These are the dreams
In which I sink
And tomorrow you will think of me,
And tomorrow you will think of me

As I remember
These leprous hands
Which once danced in
Carfuné
Betraying a dream.
 Oct 2013 Wolf
Lee
Bullshit
 Oct 2013 Wolf
Lee
" its all *******."
she mouthed
cocking a drunken head and lighting a broken cigarette

I looked her up,
                         up,
                             up,


and down again.
"Between just us
as friends
it'll be fine
just fine in the-"

"I know."
as she looked away
she showed me soft grace
a wrinkled nose and tired eyes
posture of those patron saints

I poured out two gins
taking both
she smiled
both gone
not a single
sip
saved.

"You're beautiful"
I mumbled
and
she smirked.
Made upward movement
taking a lucky
she brought fire
up to the tip.




Lips pursed together
tongue pushing
spit
around the dirt
at my feet.

When we were done
she lay back arching
those fluttered eyes
aching muscles
the auburn curls
her smile as i played
our sighs together.

Petting
heavy
heavy as the world sitting
on my worried head.
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