To take, like water, whatever shape you flow through, fill, or rest in. And to choose that shape. * As: Brian, become a gangster, six feet from my face. Voice no longer a caress but a sharpened projection, belly a ram in a buttoned vest. The whole body shows the thing done: goat-song…
Lumber me up, my licky bloke, my one so far unseen, my limbered timber boy. What luck to bucky suck till sated, luminous tuneful body to play on, even now long play me on. I hanker for the slow bang of my love, his howl and cheek, shebang, the flaming oh’s of his moany mouth….
Another day of hair in my food. Another day of being cheated, Overlooked. Another day of nausea. I play Beethoven: Symphony 9. The violin simmers for an instant, And the cello is the instant, And the timpani, The timpani comes crashing. My stomach turns its peach pit to the moon! The sound says I am…
Becomes a layer, means a look A tilt my skull to better Seesaw from this to back To finishing for a kiss To lean on the fall of your hair My thumb and forefinger Like the rain Pooling gain by plurality.
Once a whiff, once a flint, the shifty skystuff blinds me on five sides. I take icefuls of noise and gas rounding out an inside. I prepare the upper reaches by kissing distance back into my skull like a transparent worm. Smoke keeps returning a little freckled, so I use it too. Throw it up…
When kiss spells contradiction it spills an ocean of open clothes. I gave me to one who hung hearts so high it was a mast in mute blue weather, the clang and strop of it, the undercover wet. Said are they sails your impenetrables that only winds can jibe them, the arc and the rip…
If you do it with a feather, it’s erotic. If you do it with the whole chicken, it’s perverted. —Contemporary bumper sticker Kenmore gloss-white washing machine, you idiot savant— dgalosh ganosh dgalosh ganosh dgalosh ganosh. To exorcize our dirt, we walk down stairs toward hell. That darkness, past the water heater, behind the furnace ….
I am not making myself up for public consumption. I enjoy consumption when it means an end to things. Please deduce. Each flower comes from the axil of a small leaf which, however, is often so small that it might escape notice and which sometimes (as in the Mustard Family) disappears altogether. (Waving adieu,…
While Three stacks sand on the tide wall. The welcome wagon dropped them here, between tours of the mudflats, between old men lining up shots of birds on one leg. Two says, It’s always been almost exactly like this, hasn’t it?, and Three misses what a dozen of us couldn’t fail to catch. The path…
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