28 May 2006

"there's a towel on the back of the door"


butterclit
drip and
spread pulse
ova my nerves
                        period fuck
in a trailer park
around 3 a.m.
it’s hard now rock, my corpse, under
covers
spread and red
                                                  tripping on a labia
some salt slipd away
pinching th pink from th dark / tight as a doll, and shaved to look
younger
                                                           deepr into th come peach
release and streams
white onto
her quivering salmon belly.inhale
                                                god
and finishd
like a dead wasp
 


woman, climb my fence

th neighbor’s house is too fucking close;
I can hear every shout.
                                 every phone ring…
         every time she cries;
I smell bacon frying
and a wall of beer cans in th sun.
                                                 her silohette in th bathroom window,
a moisturizing ritual (mine).
        see his hairy gut over th bbq
almost resting on th meat.
                                                                                                                            th summer scent of heart on a grill drifts through th neighborhood
                                     ( headlights drifting through my rooms,
someone’s been stepping out )
I sense lust
in her swelling detest.

20 May 2006

never be done

listen orange                        sun lake
be th wrong map.
solar our
insecurity.
mud on a toe
screams – 1,000 moskitos;
hair café    (some day)s         dry ice                pink rain         (in a campground
I am supposed to be.driving th praire
im supposed to be stroking 
her arm, but want to stroke her summer eyes.black

forest kiss-kiss seconds
over slow chambord pour. drive through th dry.
th wind
ow.
moon glam   sex foto               I’m not hard
to understand,
if you would just love
th what if
love.

17 May 2006











gorgeous code

13 May 2006

good alone, but

I am good alone, but

can you stay?

won’t you stay?

do you sing?
don’t you sing…

if I put you in a box lined w/ paper towels
would you sing?


s(trip)IN my mINd

12 May 2006

above bar level


haste ye
my busy little drunk;
we were so awake last thursday
and th sunday before that;
            swinging
children
at dawn; ( above bar level )
decided never to sleep again, but I drifted
in yr charcoal eyeshadow.
 

maybe it's love (maybe I'm dumb)

how much heart
is in that one
muddy     heart
artist fall
get up and write that              n’artist pour
not if you didn’t
get up in th middle of th night
to write that shit.
bad run of life
gambling insane for a good river,
and ending up walking
parking lots alone.
th greatest blade on 100th ave
was th music
(was yr coffee hair…
my eyes are scissors)
                      talking w- my hands
something I didn’t confess
always telling myself ‘she knows’
                      not to replace scenery
but what do I hav left
to take on that road.

05 May 2006

come back]

juicy poems
pretty talkers
                                        juniper  wave
black sand
later ramblers
“further on up the road,
someone’s gonna hurt you like you hurt me”
justyou waitand        see
 



stompt


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