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gravelbar Apr 2016
She wrote, and I quote,

   Star and mild flower
      You are mild girl mild mother
           And much much much more

Can you understand how I love you?
Like a country song on repeat.
   Like a memory under Tamarindo and Medalla

Grass on my clothing while I stare into emptiness
The blankness behind my eyes
Patterns in the hedges
Reflections of a part of the whole
A witness to all

Witness all my savior soul
Sacrifice your beauty for your health
And call more than once a year
Goodbye, call you later

Old Willie Nelson on the radio through the desert,
The sound of cactus blooming in the afternoon
next to the lake
The sound of fresh water flowing from springs
in succulent gardens

I picked these fresh
herbs for you
To make with your breakfast
my love
Could you run your fingers through my
scalp for a while
While the coffee
kicks in
And I find myself
kissing you
like a
boy
all
over
gravelbar Apr 2016
Cold liquor in my gut
Eyes in fennel
Picked all the basil yesterday
Can you make it be?
Once again my love?
I view and a room
And two bodies pushed into
contortions
Souls pushed to edges of drops
Evil to run itself
A soul meant to destroy and
implode

Holding you close in cold wind
The taste of martinis
A bullet in my heart already
When I heard you shiver under thin blankets
My love
Do not suffer
I can not
Sustain it

The pieces of myself
Spread out between two
states
And the blood from
gashes in my feet
In a scarf you still
wear
gravelbar Feb 2016
You
Juniper,
growing in my garden,
  picked it between leaves of basil to sweeten my tea.
   Lover,
     found me between reef and sand,
       kissed me under full moon.
         I'll ride my bicycle a thousand miles.
          My love, with lips like a strain,  
            mouth like a hard set line, and I can feel your tears
               down my face as you make love to the sensory perceptions
                 of warmth and together.
                   I slog through this mud,  
                     watch gravel flick from boots.
                       I watch skulls meet into lips making root silence.
                         My love, kiss this dead skull
gravelbar Jan 2016
Found a stem
Growing from dry earth
Found a kiss
Among sand
And the promise
Of waiting lips
Could you define a broken soul
Pieced together with
super glue and
clear
tape
My love, my everything
I cried when
You smiled
I cried when
You chirped at me
With those eyelashes like
clearcut pine
Pine needles stick into
Our hand knitted blanket
While you kiss my ear
as we make love
I find you hairs in my clothing
And think about nothing but the scent
Of your sweat on my lip
And the feel of your tongue
On our teeth
Ours ours ours
Find me
Dreaming
The ones we shared
In a desert where you passed water to me
like a bird
Lips against mine
Not a word spoken
But the warmth of your breast
Against my heart
Made me believe in
life again
gravelbar Dec 2015
Novels of Kipling on the floor
Between bottles of ***
A smile I could find
like pocket change
Familiar and bright
words on my hands
In ballpoint abstract
The script on your teeth
Bite skin deep
expose my veins
so I can bleed
a verse onto
your breast
gravelbar Dec 2015
Unsettled lines, scores of blank words on the page, here I sit, smiling into the grit that found its way to the bottom of the coffee, settled at last

Like silt in the water tanks, stirred up by eager hands, the same that bear the scars of childhood into tired, sterile, lives; brushed off the stray dandelion feather a while ago

Gutters full of humanity discarded, smiling from the sidewalk as a million people shove by, this bundle of gray hair, emaciated arms, arthritic hands

Beggars bracelets, two for the price of one, a smile used often & certain of the uncertainty of life, been and seen I suppose

Buildings like beehives & 5 baht to take a ****,
beer courage & the sticky sweat of wanderer’s inebriation

Kids in the street following the trash truck for pocket change, a bottle of the strong stuff to keep it all moving

She smiled and I knew she was the one, to serve us drinks on a Buddhist holiday, grabbing tinted bottles from the stained bar wood, a gamblers grin over naked shoulders

The combination of nicotine & caffeine & strong drink, a *******’s blend, a broken moment in a sea of people, humbled by flashing neon & blank expressions, not pausing once to take in the madness of it

Like silt, we have found our way to the bottom again, the bottom of another tasteless cigarette, the bottom of another ****** bottle

Sunken chest sighs and yellow eyed smiles among the standing water of side streets & nameless alleys, accumulating life’s backwash, out of view for your convenience

Easier to change the channel & focus on what really matters, celebrity, fashion, a certain star’s daily interactions & a reality T.V. show to take a tour of their mansions

Worshiping fools, selling our minds for 3 easy payments of nineteen ninety five, delivered to your doorstep

Import your soul, bury it all in soil, sell your heart for a meaningless monetary sum, bury it all a foot down

4 a.m. & I can feel the tide winding its way down, leaving new patterns in the sand and garbage left behind

In broken English we pass the bottle & I learn that it’s easy to make a living selling cigarettes on the street to foreigners

We stumble our separate ways & I stand four stories up, the rain filling the gutters & pipes like *****, washing away the grime, replacing it with ozone & the scent of sewer

The girl with the heart necklace & orchids in her basket, a brief glance as we crossed paths, I still wonder who you could be

Buried in sighs, we weave our time out of glass, we twist & turn our lives into spires of wax, wilting wicks, the brightest seem to burn out first

Sitting in our own nowhere, you asked me if I loved you, told me to lie, I’m glad you gave me the easy out, I didn't want to hurt your feelings

I remember the look on your face those dark mornings, sipping gin and water, we watched the sun rise another day

Light the last cigarette & take our first step, I hope to see you around kid
gravelbar Apr 2015
This one wild eyed child,
with the breath like
gin,
those cedar branches between teeth,
those handfuls of eyes,
those broken whispers and spit on my eyelashes,
a kiss between a day broken like cigarettes in the package.

Could you make love to a series of words,
or a painting on the wall,
or maybe a laugh between ***** sheets where our skulls bounce off each other,
could you love a dead smile?
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