Flecks of violet, patch-quilt  loofah skin of  sponge-green iris, gold dusted
Emerald  eyes... wet stones in flesh tone, parachute baskets; paratroop lids
Descend... thin paradigms slip ; adrift upon a Seam of Tears. A saline Sea - with
Glass floor; lensing starlight over mint pink trampolines
covered in tiny copper filings,

And two Black Pools that Expand.
Two Sunbathing Night Blossoms -

Dead center. Unmanned...

Her cheekbones encroach upon Cataracts of Vacancy.
Lipid lathes of Lethe ; lips departed... red zeppelins, moist and mute . pontoons
Plump and mindless. Bee stung -
Open.

Soft mimes, glide
Over bleach and stain; over -
bone white; glide
Over Nicotine sigils, hiding -
in off-white
Enamel...

like anonymous petroglyphs for Dentists.
or Rosetta Stones for a lethargic Tongue.



II


Theta-wave turbines, throw rods and spark nods ... as others speak.
She resembles a dream-catcher’s mitt.
Words hiss now, and solid mist, twist the tell o' gram.
Into Fable's Armada !

Fog.... fog rolls in...   She rolls in, Beneath  a New Between. of Chasms
Hazardous grammar spasms, stammering -
Deaf tones of Diction -
All This ....In the Good Ear.
An Ear Of Cornucopias Delete.... The Dry Cob
Of  Annulled
Speech. [ but Morphine ]

Maybe a half-dozen kernels of distinct cream ; velveteen vague...
Or vivid - pleats in pure radiation.
?
Perhaps,  varicose inanities are expiation enough to drown a Kraken ?  Maybe God Happens ?

Let Ampule be the Judge.  Let Pack Mules be Priests.

As Others speak, Our Lily,  decrypts languidly left of linear... dislodged -
from Lexicons ....with long Odds, Against...
She Relents, Relentlessly-  And Utterly

Utterly Regardless...

She aborts pregnant ( .... )
pauses.

All this Fog rolls in... Agnostic.
She Robs
The Cuckoo... She De-bones the Soup
with Disjoint Comments.
And Scuttles
The Broth.

She's all Starlings and Polaroids.... Savage Pinwheels  and Aurora Vandals.

She's  All Plasma...
And Rapture -
with No Handles ...

She's Both Ends ... Burning
NOooo Candle .

A Wee Atlas; Shouldering A Loss
Ever Since Her World  
Was  Dismantled ..  A  Burden ( ... )
Lily
Phantom
Shrugs  

And Random Drugs..Atlantis.

You smell like laundry detergent, mongrel, and marijuana
wrapped in strawberry cigar papers. The way
the couch smells warm of people
prior to the heat and sweat we produced
on its rough synthetic fibers
that left me brush burns. Of French fries
and cheesy steak hoagies caked
to your apron as big golden
grease stains. You smell
of a soft shower, the nothingness
smell of water, that is still a smell.
Of loofah drenched with cobalt body wash
that your mother bought, not quite
feminine enough, but nothing you picked out yourself.
Of turquoise Listerine, the first and last time I had to wash
you out. Pineapples and watermelons, latex
and the salty smell that could be sweat
or *****. When the air is mixed with gasoline
and ***** ground winter snow,
filled with rock salt. That’s what you smell like,
in case you were wondering, her jacket
smells of you.

Word salad. Everyone a poet. But use the correct fork.
Sometimes you’re the road sign, sometimes the weary traveler.
Woke up craving attention again. The cat was unimpressed.
Pay no attention to my browsing history. I’m a writer, not a serial killer.
Women never want much, only everything you are or will be or can’t.
He said he would stuff my taco unlike any man before him,
and boy did he! So full! I’ve always wanted a man who could cook.
Some day’s, you just know that the jail time was worth it.
Dementor support group meets Thursday evening at Starbucks.
Cows who give milk for free only meet lecherous farmers.
Australia’s Oldest Man Knits Tiny Sweaters For Injured Penguins
Relearn the dying art of thinking before you ******* speak.
I scream. You scream. We come. Police come. Awkward.
Jumpin’ jizzimy Jehoshaphat. Sticky patrol cars. Safety catches.
Thought it was a loofah, but it turned out to be steel wool.
A few moments of pleasure. A full year of skin grafts.
Onan’s Handy Man Service. No job too small. Try me.
Sixty is the new 40? Try getting your ***** to believe that.
Often lost but never alone. Handy to have a hand handy. True love.
You meet the love of your life and find out she puts ketchup on pizza.
I never flirt with danger but danger just keeps on insisting.
Life hits like a girl. Thing is, like a girl that hits really hard.
She almost put on ******* today, it was a clothes call.
She lost me at: Forgot the safe word? Excellent! Here we go.
Her ad slogan: my greatest satisfaction, awakening your passion.
She dumped me because I just stood there with my moves drooping.
Watching Internet *** is like ******* without arms.
I bet that pride of yours doesn’t enjoy snuggling like I do.
Sobriety, never as delicious as an exquisite bad lifestyle buffet.
Ask your doctor before beginning the ****** and whiskey diet.
You don’t have to be desperately lonely to tweet, but it helps.
Yep. Something is happening. But you won’t know what it is.
The only fact is that you’ll never understand anything at all.
***** anything you like. After all, only everyone will see it.
Sleep children. Sweet Dreams. Dreams of angry cassowaries.
Nanny will be here to sweep up the pieces in the morning.

Gasp!
An honest expression of disbelief
As you were about to pump
conditioner
Onto your lavender loofah mittens
Never recognizing
your common way of doing things

Nouns and verbs swirls. Word anarchy. Everyone a poet.

Pay no attention to my browsing history. I’m a writer, not a serial killer.
Women never want much, only everything you are or will be.
He said he would stuff my taco unlike any man before him,
and boy did he! I've always wanted a man who could cook.
Someday's you just know that the jail time was worth it.
Cows who give milk for free never know what a respectable farmer is.
Relearn the dying art of thinking before you ******* speak.
I scream. You scream. We come.  Police come. Awkward.
Thought it was a loofah but it turned out to be steel wool.
Sixty is the new 40. Try getting your ***** to believe that.
The only fact is that you'll never understand anything at all.
I never flirt with danger but danger just insists on it.
He lost me at: Do you prefer the ropes really, really tight?
She dumped me because I just stood there with my moves unbusted.
Watching internet *** is like ******* without arms.
I bet that pride of yours doesn't enjoy snuggling like I do.
You don't have to be desperately lonely to tweet, but it helps.

Say anything you like. After all, only everyone will see it.

my eyes are shut tight
tears locked inside by a little green pill
meant to suppress the "bad thoughts"
I haven't thrown up in ten years
the contents of my stomach churn, unable to be free
nausea, induced by your secrets

I want to let them out
my contraband emotions
but I cannot
they'll ravage my insides
growing, a cancer
until they steal the last breath
from my chapped lips

for now I'll escape to the shower
with water burning the skin off my back
clean my body with broken nails
scrub myself raw
reopen old wounds
with a fluffy pink loofah

and when the water runs cold
I'll turn it off
lie on the floor of the tub
let the cold tile rattle my teeth
and I'll stay there in silence
until the faucet stops dripping

if I weren't on these meds
I might've cried
felt every time I said the wrong thing
or didn't say anything at all
roll off my face
and stain my laptop
with a tinge of mascara

if my esophagus weren't opposed to vomiting
I probably would've met my lunch again
would've been left heaving
gasping over a blue ceramic bowl
mourning my plethora
of mistakes

if I'd been home alone
I might even have screamed
howled
cursed your name
cursed my name
anything to get it out
of my clogged-up system

but I am on these meds
I haven't thrown up in ten years
and my mother sits on the couch across from me
so, instead, I'll escape to the shower
clean my body with broken nails
scrub my skin raw
reopen old wounds with a fluffy pink loofah

and when the water runs cold
I'll turn it off
lie on the floor of the tub
let the cold tile rattle my teeth
and I'll stay there in silence
until the faucet stops dripping

the mirror stares at the wholeness of me--cellulite creating waves over waves, bumps and hills over the decisiveness of my bones. everywhere, a mirror, a chance to reflect and magnify. here i am, my reflection says, hands waving at me, smile wavering slightly. here i am; look closely. more, the person says. look harder. and there i see it--the person in the person. the hands wrapped around my hands, not hovering there but trapping mine. over the halo of my hair is another head, one sneering down at my reflection, probably thinking its way into this world, are you still alive?

there is room for doubt, never any room for certainty. when i step under the showerhead, grab the loofah and wash, i imagine the tearing of skin against claws. secrets fall over in rivulets of darkened fat, the sick yellow of it all screaming at me in the unrelenting water. there has got to be time for release, however nauseously painful. as the ****** result streams down the drain, i wring my hair dry and reach for the towel, only to accidentally glance at the mirror again.

are you still alive? an answer spoken through a different mouth: more or less.

The toothbrush starts, “Enameled crooked crescents fence
a cavern filled by slimy growths and walls that tense.”

The towel ruffles, “Four protrusions rife with joints;
the fifth a rounded stump with sev’ral gentle points.”

“Agreed. The knobs and knuckles wear a supple coat;”
the loofah huffs, “it’s gritty, slick, and prone to bloat.”

The eyebrow brush retorts, “It’s two retracting domes
that cause a row of strands to flutter when one roams.”

“While ‘domes’ is right, I venture ‘jiggle’ as more apt -
along with perky, tapered tips.” the brassiere flapped.

The ****** giggle, “‘Bouncy’ could suffice as well,
but don’t forget the dampened folds and prickly swell.”

“Absurd!” exclaims the hairbrush, “More like brittle twine;
Entangled, oily knots that never quite align.”

“Not twine, but thistles bushing out in sweeping arcs,”
the razor sighs, “from paper that too clearly marks.”

A glassy voice laments, “Not one of them’s correct -
how easy this would be, if you could all reflect.”