that kitchen drawer with all the crap in that one swears will be useful later
(just all my NaPo entries that I would like to re-everything)
White bread, spread to the edges
Its enough to startle us,
confiscated, put away,
reserved for a later date.
passages of time and eloquence, your darling love
embraced and remembered,
dispel the wanton wish
caught in polaroids
fermented in back of library
floating in mighties gold effervescent overlay.
Prepare for the playground attendant
To be hunted and strained for his polite killing colander,
This small mind predicted this fate.
Sorry, no god today.
until death do us start.
latent images in the emulsion
Moisture drawing on the pain,
smoke the hurt to ease my cigarette chain.
What broke my equine
and foals leaping from their depth,
for an all-in bet
a color not on the table
for coats and techni-wandering
and slaughtered in
the bridle broken.
It collapsed, it collapsed on the mountain
the crash of heavens spotlight, its louvres
angling this alchemy of the hearts palm splayed
its alchemy within each footstep
cos one traveled all the way
flutes of the candles flicker
some game of fate forced to play
and its all I can do philosophize myself out of the skin and mess
and stitch the pieces together to resemble
some familiar doorstep slab
on which to step onward
and some doors seem forever locked
only owned by the definer
hit it against a rock
Breathing out the musk’s sweat of a fight
as touch wrest its perspective from genuine touch
to a land I didn’t know I cared for
I will only care for the earth when it blossoms.
dresses for men
I still dream,
though a deceitful mind works threateningly
beads of grimy sweat, distilled in the head
on block and shovel, barrow and empty
looking to worm
sleep out the eyes,
entrained among the chains
with your name emblazoned , scarred,
in a shotgun full of emerald, bold glory.
Gore the host, toast the introspective
wildly clapping in the front seat
at the tale of mermaid men waiting for birth.
Whoever has an objective in life
whomsoever s numbskull opposing force
could drink to drink, to ogle from the boat.
overblown balloons underneath my breathe.
Like the value of my act is measured
through these coincidences.
Left the eye to fallow,
sky-light instincts harrowing
gull-white boy-blue under the foil moon.
Within its spell and upon its teeth lies
the everafter over-touched,
Please give back my surroundings
against all these odds.
heartening and extra embellished
for the hard of reckoning.
For if it is different
it will be left alone
like the liseron binding
the morning glass to the garden,
like saliva golden in the inkwell,
like the light footed assurity
on which every particle supports
the phantasm gaze,
like water jars in sunlight morning moonlight ways.
like when the current exploded every nerve cell
like these things would ever become problematic.
The fingered flea
You solstice on the blood,
on the crane’s bill,
If I could just let its veins wander,
let them jar between the jamb and the head.
Setting snow on fire,
in a june-bugged assassination,
caught in the syrup around the lash.
Was a dirty child once,
was someone’s reason,
nudge, wink and whistle;
what was desired,
what was expected turned into a lifetime.
this self-attachment being the first sign of madness
flinging to keep rhythm
with the counter beat
of god’s clicking yellowed finger.
resign today...phone in dead
realizing some things
in an unbecoming pose.
I can't stop looking
in the hairdresser's eyes.
just once, this one time,
I might respect someone enough
to leave them alone.
a wire to the kick,
a switch to the nerve.
treasuring the beautiful in halo past.
and a lawn needs mowing.
passing Tao notes to a TV addict,
having been handed down the famished
sweaty livery :
- "you respond well to provocation",
"you really need to die again"
in winged blur
Large looms the necessity
for an input of grandeur,
a roar of mirth and a startling brush
to light up these hide eyes.
Bristling starlings wary
and from their lungs,
the accidental sighs
could match the tide.
to swim with dusky air to foreigners
their swagger of composing a dream
far more irridaceous than this,
rained on , seducing the rivers
in the vein.
meet me there, metre me
in every clinging shallow moment,
on this our flying anniversary.
The lisps and jabbers in mornings arbitrary converse
I was flustered, a fish dismembered
and ocean drunk in the bottom of a chair,
gutting the flannel,
cutting up the dregs of reason
whilst practicing eternity in the mirror
safe from reflective harm
some fresh thought of Camelot
infused into the morning drill
gladdening for my next space to filled,
to full, to be swapped for,
topmost; finding a life lost in living
nothing they say can infect me
This torso is constantly on trial
it’s a twisted way to be free.
genre osti de calice
This moment in its little syllabic
for a deeper diamond mined
just as it holds onto groans in its echoes
and the pyjama string
wrapping around the parts
that are wet and wringing with sparkling water
a ballroom dance conspiring in a parlor
exploring the nature of the waves in the sea
Judging from the bubbles yo-yoing along
the ridge and might, pull back the skin,
aware that this could last forever,
placed in files in a cabinet
crumpled under the stairs.
dreaming in acetone
Whisper-up, drown it out
blotting the weeping
out of a feathering dress.
in relief from the delicate press
of bad cooking wine running over
the edges of the plate
in an attempt to skirt again
its boundaries bleeding edge.
the presence of the gall and bark,
proverbial in the bitterness
of an acidic handkerchief
the crusting corners of the mouth
and the end of a long table conversation.
the astringent boon,
in persons drunk on premise
ballasted in the image of some union ring.
and the common loon
was a posy within its engraving.
O kn ow where iy ;au
Know if the love of auto-didactic is proper,
and if its arena to performs needs care,
and if it sees the walls infested
or corrupt, it has to know on what land it is invested.
Only this land, with its correspondence of tributaries
and vital breathes in between, at all risk, need know sure the …
the inner grab of hair
whose golden charms
adorned the mustard; finger-stroke
stain the linings and trigger
the re-shot re-fire re-load
curtailing myself behind shades of a curtains fold.
why stop? When you stop the heart stops
it stops spinning
it stops watching the cracks in the performance.
either he goes or I stay
I lapped at the medicine, saw it glue itself
round the bottom of the bowl
as its pool lies in flittering ripples slow as shivers
swimming their way down the spine.
dive off the ledge, under the boathouse
hit the bottom of the bottle,
lake and escape; to a moment
where I did not dislocate a shoulder
the water ‘s clear and pure
a precursor to the precondition
to an (un)prescient nurturing pool
where I wanted to ask, but I just stared
hitting a chorus high-note and was scared.
3:22am… ‘you are star wars’
jam the palette paling
round the tuft of bristle sprig,
and paint you light grained
so it picks up the dust-mites
speckling after the death
of a glacier.
these thumbnails have me confused
and fall off the table in a tentative draft,
it was all an outline; it was that all could be designed.
all a child’s mistake mooring the red air
to exchanges in the glance-filled
rough of a fragrant notebook
with the cleft-palate jostling,
jinxing the patently obvious.
this conscience replying in letter form
had looked like one sentence
once looked like a succulent dream.
I've seen you jittering,
lithe as slight slicing up the butter,
a mice intestine rivers
in the lather in the swallow.
fingering it all out.
untangling it in the fat ibid
of the throat.
in the margin, the sicknote
comb binded with the brindle,
flaked in milked snow,
in pots left
for uninvited guests
fresh unsour at the table
a sidenote offering
something some sense lucky,
cornered with the unsure
into an envelope placed under a poacher's door.
hitching up a trouser leg – one over the other.
Ripped from open scent, to investigate
a momentary lapse in pathway garden,
cabbage white flown from the south,
wrong-footed by gliders,
flipping and torn open in the air.
causing streams to charge
the river’s edge from my eyes.
Long oh so long the flurry of tantrums and violent love.
Got charged, got arrested, got bitten in the calf
by gargoyles randomly placed by god,
tossed tails side up.
Grown gargantuan spider, on my lap,
On my mind, in my head, under the trees
and swallowing, swallowing all your hair,
in treacle drawn in your eye
that summon chestnuts
and oak pullovers,
satin-boothed in your lips meeting cove.
steamed and withered from cherubic jars
Last in spirit, long in song
sung in tumultuous rapid flow.
was we coming to this by being
dragged out of a tinned, repeating palindrome
so letting the mansion fall;
must be a rainbow digging up the horizon,
can be stapled down and filed away
to be said again, reread by others.
Man confessor, long times boy,
drink it all up, lap-dance your head further.
The suckle light ball, steamed in there way-laid back
the avenue rays for full horizon and truthful atrocities,
So bend down and welch, drooling, confessing,
cooing to write a better resting place.