You have limits for closeness
Distance has no limits
If you can remember any distance story
You end up in seeing closeness
Cause closenesses are memorable
Not distances..

I hold a very little box
with very little things
little thoughts
little clippings
of smaller things
I often fold myself up
and place myself in
waiting in my little box
there sitting
for a little time
for a little while
I’m not asking for much
I sit with a little smile
nothing bigger than the box
nothing more than two
room for me
and a little of you

a kiss sounds a bit messy
too much saliva
the taste of breath

it’s the after-the-kiss that i like
(the before is good too)
but the after

oh

the closeness
the intimacy
the sweetness of it

nuzzles and breathless laughs and endless smiles
two people tucked so perfectly
into the gentle hollows of each other

i want it
i want to be breathless with you
noses touching
fingers brushing
two people loving

hands shake a little
tremors in the wrist
as my fingers touch
you, light as a summer mist

the feeling fills me full
this sensation of bliss
it’s so good, so very good
this lovely after-the-kiss

i would close my eyes
to just breathe you in

the points of contact:
(where i feel you)
nose
fingers
arm
waist
knees

where i feel my pulse:
(it’s everywhere, like the scent of you)
behind both ears
left side of my neck
right wrist near veins
inner right knee
arch of my left foot
under my jaw

too many places

am i dying

that feels like a possible outcome

i’ll die happy
ecstatic
in love
terrified
content
safe
and sound

so many things i feel
so many things to list
there is so much, almost
too much, about
this lovely after-the-kiss

he thinks of a conversation
and just someone to sing to
so she settles with the most wakeful few seconds in the dark
something she needs to take from him
and he will exchange for the better, something like
a confession that collapse all thunder to the rain within her
like a faint song from a closing theatre
a moment from an empty, sunlit classroom
a graceless parting, a connection taken for granted
a chronicle from a man passing like the guises of autumn
to be passed around without the weight of one another
the goodbyes without the afterthought

Dirt poor  and
down trodden,
he didnt ask for this
this life  among the fallen--

My fuckerface,  he paid his dues
among the homes of the forgotten

Scandinavian/Cherokee was his pa
(tho not for long)
Crow Creek Sioux and German,  his ma..

and all along the Rosebud rez
his half-breed skin,  rubbed raw.


Ah,  my beautiful  sweet fuckerface--
you are  the finest  blood-brother
of them all.

D Vanlandingham

I have gotten to the place
where I hate most everything
Except for the deep, raw truth

      of true brokenness.

And the love that I feel
for those  left so alone
undoes the twist of my hatred,

Bringing a warmth  that
keeps me alive, in my deep longing
to be with beautiful spirits,

                       kindred.

paulSN

I cannot betray
who it is that I am,
little beauty-
and so, in doing so
I will continue to hold on
to that which I know
truly gives me strength;

but..
I cannot help but hope
that as I do, the rain
that waters my tree
and helps me to stand--
also waters
and brings nourishment to
the very roots

of the beautiful sapling that is you.

I do it for me, because I know
that is what I must do-  stand.
Know that you are deeply embedded
within my very growth rings, so
as I stand
and sing
of the very rain  that
provides the very thing we need,
I stand for you also:

and everyone else who is a struggling
sapling such as I once was.

      You are me
      and I am you.

   We both thrive on the same water.

One fine, postdiluvian day,
God glanced down on Noah and crew,  midfloat..



((ding)) "NOAH.."

                        
                          ­  "Hmm..? what is that?


((ding)) "NOAH.."



                            "Oh, ****.. its the boss.. everyone, ****** chill"



((ding)) "NOAH.."


                               "yes Lord..?"



Noah, now concerning being fruitful and.. uh..  whatever
you know-- lala,  and stuff.."


                                 "Ya..?"


"Ya yourself, Noah.
Hast thou considered the howler monkey..?
That wild-assed little pair going at it up there in the crowsnest
are tantric AF."



                                 "Dude.. you should bless those cute, hairy
                                   little love-machines with the most *******-sounding
                                   lovehowl on the planet.."




****.. I wish I was the one who thought of that..  
    :(

These are the things I would be feeling if I
was like you

The warm touch of a friend
when it fills you
with love

and that love;
bubbling up to the surface,
flush against the inside of my skin
like it will burst soon

and I will flood you
because my body cannot contain this closeness

my heart is fit to burst
its empty insides
splattered across the walls

like a Polluck painting to our connection

if I felt it
if I knew that it was there

If I knew it like I knew
the scent of spices
like I know the cold embrace
of winter months, when they brush

against my illness and I know
that it can’t go on
because it hurts so much to love

it tears words from my gut that I would never
dare say
it brings promises I cannot keep;
if I could, I would weep

because it hurts so much to love

but I have to try