Dangles

It's not your indifference that makes the difference
I think its your spiral-striped stair case that you maimed, healed, and egg-shelled, brooms down,
all while calling for your razorbacks, which you never did ride away

your insignificance is another story
you spoke of it when you were cigarette but an ashtray backing up into your mother's arms
begging yourself to get off the swing a little salty, a little small, and a little too steady
entrapping this case of field armor and worms we embarked entrepid along a lonely night
back to where disease was just the word ~wind~
on top of this you erected a tent, just in case

oh what it was like
for me to
for me
only write
I heard birds in a fire!
and a firefly
burning besides where the sky was cornered and forced to dry a long time into that night

did you recover?

prospering doesn't hang that much down
if at all when you're recovering from flinging yourself like I did
right up the wall
embiled inside you--green like an inner child
where you have been sleeping in it
and now you're suffering from it

The paper dies like a wet pen.
Addition, addition, and addition.

You got your sheep goat's face up I see lemon-berried scapegoat as slippery

I suspect you've lined them up with carmel-apple-colored barrettes

baby hog's breath shaped like your wigwam memories etched like the time you left in leftfield's basketball court skating rink hot cocoa

snot kisses

Christmas used to be mine

I gave it to you as a gift you sent it back to a different address that's how it goes around each time I guess I expect some things to remain as crisp as wonderful yet each return is so changed it leads to the downhill ski slope I am forever guest hosting

I didn't sign up to be this turn style or the stylus (did I give you the stylus or just the records?) stuck on repeat, i wish i could dismember the skip spinning on the icon i loved so much how would you like this to be your bones, your teeth, your skin? all to do without but watch it be done in front of you every day would you like two or seven of them to go? nah. I always just get them to stay.

minutes absorb what is water to thought
thought I'd add another log to the
thought I'd adhere to that which pulled me in
and under
your wrenches
snow, clanging, your voice
thought I'd with pebbles and small things tossed in
rabbits, stars, darkness
one cricket, two cricket
fire
and just looking at you

Elusive on longevity mutually
excluding every difference better
for the portrayal than road rage
long foretold it
long live rock that well-passed it
driving down the freeway aurora
borealis in chains what remains is
not the song that's been sung before
but said before

and best forgiven
deeply
not caring because you do so

with shepherds marking your every village
under your every rock camouflage

when things are going
they bleed and they go
and you try but they crumple and bleed on the grass
sometimes it's the worst thing in the world to watch something go
empty-handed taking everything

remember that dark green nighttime web-like spines down your back
laughter ceased with every tearing when I walked in
Peruvian sheep, and a home-made crown awesome calling your duty is

love is so tremendously down some forty-nine-yard beaten-to-death path
where all the forest hides the stars and instead preserves tar leaves

look
treachery is not given an arm or a coat, it is given a verse
it's leaving us tomorrow on it's crazy wind-swept pathos
can only ever be contained up there in mollusk high dreams
but because it isn't
never did you ever

come so far all to need a ride home

love is in your lap
it spread through your veins
crossing ravines and roots canal
mahybe at the last moment we will know
all the time spent on the smallest things
two directions relative to ground
inhale it the dog
tall but round in your lap
darting eyes
wagging flap
cooling arms
magnificent umbrella signals motion open to where we shake it, there we should
magnetism and a person
you go where attracted to

I like it.

thank you!

there is so much darkness in wind
i pray that if it is the end, that just a day should never be so boring
as to not see the light in trees
or memories
or adoration of just someone

a place that reminds you of Halloween 10 years ago

a sound of wood and gentleness
of curly hair that you love so much and wish were here even though it is

hi
an arm and hand of someone you love, what a beautiful thing to have near,
you wish that it would never go away .

words you say
words you say

don't go away

warm pickle in a bag
i don't frickin care

shut your friggin face

It's a rainy generation.
One you pick at with ease
All this day and you're foolish
Shut up don't walk around when you finally see

Are you for real

dont get me started baby
you know how things get
once they are started

do you want to talk about
dead clan and of
you've got to fight for your right to let me roll it

and in an instant I remember 1,005 forgotten dreams, all becoming unwrapped
like lighthouses
loose before my eyes like a bandit of flies

take the wrappings and make them today
make them imaginings
let's make them as if they were
lovely
woven things
to nestle in
for one long-ass short while

August is Windy
it pretends in its
beginning (grey) to upend
the few trees it finds
.....yellowing

there is no news for the
.....happy remorse

pining, ever recovering, its
.....time

There's a hollow to it. set
Apart from the full
July & the packed September
it resembles an always
................... turquoise
which is light

Katys did and didn't at long
last. Please last
..........and last
...........and last
...........and last

Dick Poetry was a fine young man.
Called masturbation one long soliloquy.
He'd often touch water when he had to pee.

what would I do
if all exotic were pink
color psychotic

move to 19 45
alone but with bells

fortunes tell her

having alot to do with sound
and
listen

a garage
kitchen warmed
oven on
towels warming milk, baby

chicken pox .
maybe. real bad

cars seem strange
too large for me

still
the surgeon. steels

October November real
bloody December unprepared for.
what my mother, what you cared for.
love is real, tell my dream
Tell my being what to feel.
In the night of avalanche
thought I'd try for fat and fast

All but cold but diamonds mine
Free from past but not so trying
Back porch dew but where are my friends
Where are my friends
Where are my friends
Where are my friends
I am dying
Where are my friends

it's the unfamiliar path part the first time through
the unknown tenderness when first happens
unmimicable
not the cadence
like your song on the table
when you try to name it

and so
so cold
your stone flopping blueberry holes

lime and worcester
firing ozone but nothing to cover yourself
with the rodents seeking to do
what you have done into others
you shouldn't read this
you should keep your mind well blown

there was domestic violence alot at the house and he would keep her locked in the basement for days