..........................

fucking jerk

ive felt my bones
creak in the night
rocking chair squeaks
crows feet
wrinkles and
nascent skin retreats
mouthing my mouth
open mouths next to each other
wording things like
“breathe me please”
open, moisture heating
leaning on me repeatedly
juice on skates, an icecapade
light shows on my tongue for days
sparks from rockets
sparks from anvils
i taste things
i hope they are you
hopefully you taste them too

im inside you somewhere
maybe its your mouth
maybe its somewhere else
siphon out your kiss
and swallow it
ive got your clothes
ive got your books
some things i just, well
i tossed those
your bird still sings in the cage i made
your cat still pines for a taste
i hate your animals
constant battles
im inside you somehow
maybe its my tongue
maybe its something else
what happened to you
you are welling up inside
ready to burst
something
pulls me further
pulls me closer
like driving drunk it
pulls me over

split between my
need to run
desire to stay
desire to leave
keen to betray
creating scabs
electricity burns
memories of feelings convey things i
wish i could smash from my brain
sprawled on the floor and sweating
thumb tacks
wrist bruises
purple punches turning love to
carpet stains
jeans i remove from you
leaves we jump into
a sea we consume
a tv in tune
whatever works
whatever

pants

tangled legs and rubbing
pants braided on the floor
sweating on my face
we get up and the mattress stinks

making it in showbusiness

piano keys leave a dent
firewood cut to burn for tenants
but never the owner’s hands
the lover’s dowry kills demands

fetching medals
lovely Turner cast
doe eyed, swelling faces
camera lenses smash
she touches my lapel and i divulge
synonymy
trumpet creed
dainty flute remission

bassist bastard clash
scary Dahmer masks
dogs who whine to dissipate the sea of mire masts
sailing for the line
actors touch the core
beautiful and precious words
breaking on the shore

slow pedaling

on a drive to an end
an eastern place
highway under saffron
tiny needles to me

baby crabs spitting bubbles
running away once we walk to meet them
beach doesnt make any noise until the evening
we sit on
in precious hazy somber

bicycles with one another
slow pedaling
the wind blows up your skirt
but i see you
& i see so holy.

i lived in an orphanage

i knew this kid once
we had to hide all the knives from him
we weren’t allowed rope or wire
i wasnt allowed matches neither
i wasnt allowed much cause of him

eventually he found a way
he licked his finger and
put it in the plug where the lamp goes
maybe he knew a secret

whale stuff

when you are inside a whale
after he sees your ship
and swallows it up
what do you do
to pass the time?

maybe you narrate his life for him
he doesnt know where its coming from but
you tell him, hey!
you ate me!

maybe if you become friends
you play voice-throwing tricks
by the wharfs at night
and scare harbormasters
shine flashlights out of his eyes
and pretend you are in a submarine

after a time
he would let you go
but i think he would miss you

i am a mouse

we stick together, us,
we forest things
said the fox to me
i had some berries, so i shared with him
gosh, they were not sweet though

but we were hungry,
we forest things.
tasting the sour
on berries
is better than no taste in your mouth at all
said the fox to me
then he bounded beyond the brush
because they wanted him over their fireplace
his eyes forever open

it sings for us

a flame could nock the arrow hard
and kiss the lips of the airwaves
leave my heart and marrow charred
burn the church on a sunday
drag me back into the water
foul mire, black lagoon
as my soul evaporates
my vile digits reach the moon
whisper to my ears and pray
for dimly lit tv displays
conjure up a liquid cure
soon the pain will dissipate
fingers fleeting on your neck
feel me breathe upon your cheek
take two steps, now to your left
beautiful and bittersweet
blow the horn to chase the fox
the gale will pass beyond our town, i fear
backwards runs the pocket watch
speak now before i tin the crown, my dear
cut my face with mirror shards
play the strings on your guitars
im just ignoring who you are
im just ignoring who we are
what a pleasant opus

bar stool breaks over my back
finally i tell the truth
kick me out into the quicksand
with finely crafted leather boots
keep the bible in your hand
kerchief wraps my sinful taste
close the tome of the wicked ones
clear the gate on my escape
kiss your lover’s face at midnight
feel alive; cathartic moment
tears stream down your face at midnight
ribbons soar above the orient
radio man, drunk off the crowd
the alcohol, it sings for us
we forget to tear each other down
the alcohol, it sings for us
bullets fire from the spire
chopping down the false design
shaman dust thrown to the fire
reveals which men are truly swine
what a pleasant opus

the originals

you ever go into a museum
i mean a nice one
not one of those
state funded
marginalized with
local celebrity crap
shit hung up thats
under a decade old
sold for cancer events
i mean a real museum
where its quiet
you feel claustrophobic by the peace
of a wide open space
high heels reverberating in the distance
recycled air that tastes nice
a real one
and look at paintings
depicting war, or sex
depicting powerful things
surgeons and the first autopsies
women taking baths
pederasts, rapists
historic suicides
murder of philosphers
dead folk piled in carriages
angels that don’t exist
or maybe did but
dont anymore

you look at them
and feel completely
detached
from that reality
but
its the same now, here
has always been the same
we just prefer to
give credit
to the originals

makes it feel that much further from what
we are now

argentine tango

keep
the rose stem in your mouth
instead of my hand
less blood that way