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Friend of doom

Sweet breathless terror
How you bathe me
In the panoply of your dreams
Shaken knobby kneed me
Fierce readied and awakened
Still whispering “need me”.
I will not still the quaking
With less than violence
More than peace
But rest
in the ceaseless silence
Of your wings;
Unduly undoing-
As much as immemorial making,
flown nevermore.
Tethered as I am
Dreadful and cretin
displaced perfectly
in your freedom
embracing.
It’s not so much
that I’m searching for home,
but always been
uncanny
and thrown.

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Some poignant libretto

I have sonnets in my heart
written by quarks
and the quantum entanglement
that faithfully transpires
carves a libretto on my chest
struck in a Braille cypher
only your hands can read
and when you rush
your smooth hands
across my breast
I can finally breathe
and sing again
of you
touching me.

Gimme

My battery is at 15 percent
It’s cold but we
Might could still make it
The dog is chatty
And about fifty pounds
Thirty?
On me, wiggling
And ready to be
Let to pee and poo
Despite my own shuddering
And ill made words
I can still maybe
Pronounce you,
Let the pup bark out back
Right before
This phone goes kaput
And I can utter
Something more
Than I’m stupid
Say it again,
I don’t want to lose you
and this poem sucks
and you knew it.

Reverence

Expect snow
look up
even mud is a miracle
you’re not the shadow
you’re your own puppet
unraveled and unstuffed
cotton gut frayed
as if never folded
presented splayed and robust
carved in red
like a sunset
or the backs of your eyes
adjusting to birth
our cheeks
when we unlock
and how every moment
is our first.

Once more on the threshing floor

I’ve hid my pieces behind paper
folded and scribbled,
indecipherable labyrinths
to even these fingers,
scrambling lost
every letter a minotaur,
every silent breath
a golden thread
criss crosses through
the cobblestones till you’re
back to the threshing floor
rupturing my spirit
50 cc’s of your breath
upon my neck,
absolute whiskey
shivered and whispered
dark and deep
might of could woke you
or sing you back to sweet sleep
brush sneaky fingers
gimme
those lips, get me stuck in
pink purses for days
caught in this torn net
before I’m back
dreaming again, breathed in
ground,
crushed, unsheathed
and brittle dust
ready to connect and catalyze
and rise to feed
back to bed, or now, eaten
find a place to lay my head.

Barefoot in October (at Fucking Last)

There is a joy that Thanatos grants,
toes untouched by mosquitos for the first time
in forever, the bare cold, at last
blessed by the night, soft silly wisp
cotton vapor sparsely written
in a script never spoken
embracing the darkness of our
elegantly hypnotizing dyslexicacy
imposed not by fault but the gravitational hue
of lushness. The air is still
pregnant with your unspeakable name;
like the perfume of forgiveness,
lingering on the tip of the tongue,
right behind the pinhole eye
of an aperture lost in blink,
one can possibly pause to pass through
the stillness and hear it whispered.
The sky has masks shaped with leaves
fragrant again with the dusky
tone piped thirstily into our ears,
echoes and shadows -doing their best-
before our innocently lying eyes
ready to shutter and crocodile cry.
Walk out into it all, maybe-
drunk on fifth notes and seasick sighs,
crafty little zingers, indignant hypocrisy,
bathing in rampant everlasting starlight
whole again, for once, this one time only,
your little scathing hyperbolic ironic redundant
contrarian sensibilities finally
crunched beneath your feet,
inescapable in the fall,
might as well be good as dead by winter,
rested and ready for the thaw.

I want you the way the sky wants the sun

Your body is a poem my hands ache
to recite word by precious word
over and over and over
tracing its meter and rhyme
till I can memorize your goofy smile;
recite the pearl green bright
till I’m blind in the eyes.
I just want to bathe in your skin
and feel what it feels to be whole again
breathless and nearly dead
but so so alive, more than I can say.
I want to hold you the way the waves
want to hold the moon,
the way the grass swells and swoons
after the smell of rain kisses you,
when the wind sweeps through;
the short and sweet words you use
to describe your funny moods
and all the little faces you make
when I tell you, in not so many
ways, and when you tell me
over and over and over again,
I want you, I want you.
I want you.