and its off the track
black tire rubber burnt
on asphault, morning sun
after cold night
easy breezey warm sunset
and your red shoes
to the store
you buy milk
you do not notice him
his mother at the register
check one. gum.
you smoke a ciggarette
on your saunter back home.
you pass along in the morning
so clean, so fresh
dandelions and you crush the
over sea, under stone, you are
and this is hardly a jog,
your cock and balls are fine
i like your saunter
i retrieve my whisper
mine mine mine mine mine
you pass a lady walking her dogs
your eyes hazy with morning and
love love dew that milks your attention
i love you
you pass her
and grinn like a fool
eyes alight and she moments
suprised. grins like a sheep
in her age and
steps quietly on. feet wearing
flats, hair still tawny
like the younger girls.
blue sky morning. clear sunshine, limber dim -
the sun breathes easily and with width
and she still hasnt hit the peach,
peeked her solar yolk, sofly cupped custard face
only her sky is alighting
what dawn awaits
your socks are and your pirate's booty bay
I am missing your blue eyes
cocoa skin and curly hair
that i feel complete in
my fingers at west in
your sable gold corona
your curls, rough and ringleted
like blood letted
i am biting my lip, tasting my tongue
looking out the window
ground level, I am
waiting for you
I sit on my base and
stamp, move my feet
impatient and swirling
the salt of my holy streams,
white cells, red cells, t cells playing backgamon, bones and poker
red as iron debating
its penchant for games of time
it is 6:19. I am waiting.
This is lime green to me now.
The color movement, a reality trip.
it is 7. No, it is 6:19, i am waiting...
I am waiting for your,
fingers in hair. head down
i take an account, over despair,
if despair is an ocean floor
a quadrant, circular angles or amoebic
in overall shape, i feed the fish
and sea life chum and food as if
they were in my house aquarium
a sea horse love, here with me
i look down, observant of my
despair no longer tastes like she used to.
used to draw
draw me in, used to taste of my sorrow
a crevass of magnetic implications.
no she is there, she is tended to, tending
her new life. Around to remind me
that she is a possibility but for now she
has other responsibilities.
like being a whale of a ghost.
and smiling at me, genuinely star eyes
These days i stack white
chips, bricks, bones, blocks of balsa
organize proactive faith and god's
glue universal optimism
buoyant like a castle above what is, was
doesnt NEED to be.
I am glad to be friend with
who used to be My Lady Of Despair
and well, an absolvent nature,
nevermind the twisted quincux
of what seems a darker loyalty.
like a faith.
It is good to note her place
in my life
Mi Amore Vole fe, Ya!
My love needs faith, Yah!
My creedence, providence sings
My lady, from despair to cheer,
hope, faith in love.
Perhaps this has been just
despair just a starting point
just a resting point
of life. It is fair, then, that
She would remind me. Where life can go.
Where she has found me before.
I understand, my blood violet pink white light
and electric. my blood holds and understands.
She is jealous, often, my blood.
That isn't true. She is, I am
When she is as her she is me
and she is dark as i am only more easily
She is purple bruised and violet ways
She is plum
And to know her is to know her as golden.
She is, an Italian Plum.
She cracks me up
She, me, me inside myself.
It is funny
He is still not home
Me, him, myself, and my other half.
either of them
we are too good to be true.
I am shocked when she arives
She suprises me and i am in my ow skin.
She is very woman, for a boy with a penis to be
it is funny.
they hurt her. bad.
she wasnt happy. she held.
Stronger than the rest of me.
an iron. a wonder.
he was smiling, she was around early.
he holds to him.
she is funny.
I am purple shadow
pink violet collage.
I have my dark rooms
they arent as obliging as
it is around him; robbie.
I need him, she needs him.
he drowned. exhausted in his purple
This last fall. I could hear
I could see. Over the wire, through
the phone. A king entertaining
soon to be ahugado in himself, not all
himself, totally his, himself the giantness of his
he left memphis before I got there.
he was fire then. my guess. probably smiling
With fire. cat teeth
or eyes alight.
I miss his plum lips
They are sour and i find them
favorable. to me. i will rest with his lower lip and his lashes
alone. he will not take them off, like a felt doll.
he is one and a half
75% of himself
I am too.
We are numbers, digits
division numbers squared
Y E C
yes yes NO!
and slip away
we are ghost light,
green see through and
I will call you lime but you are not smutt
and hers as placement;
she moves on quicker.
you and i
we are lime. sweet and sour
fresh and agua
I guess this means we get to wear black
Dont we get gay
over each other or something?
Well. Obviously. It's a motorcycle.
The rush comes.
I'm waiting for you.
I'm gonna be traveling south
along the coast, find me in the flowers
you, a welcome host.
I will sleep among the poppies
the mercy lilac of their drop, droop, drip
of their petals, soft as satin satin and alive
strange things, flowers.
I will be the woodlands as i go.
Nature in me on me around me
I because of nature, nature because of I
I will be singing
like butterfly belly laughs
the hidden quotient of harmony
in the lifts and dips of my
emotional, landscapes, seascape.
I will smell as honeysuckle
redder than the wildrose i bloom
as hibiscus. yarrow and indian paintbrush
those flowers that smell like semen in the
spring. rhododendron, my second chakra
moves, a waterwheel, it turns rhododendron, azalea.
echoes of a red red road,
My sex is gypsy,
I will wear her in my hair, for i have no hibiscus
I will braid and bead my hair, i will pack
my simples. Mi pintura, some inscence, oils and
creams. a few changes of clothes. a first aid kit.
Mis joyas. a sewing kit. Mr Snoogles my doggie.
My Ricki Bobby. I'll be on the sand
Through the woods. My handprints in the mud,
the heart in the sand. Welcome my echo,
my echo, my echo on the sand. my angels
with G-D tech. The angel ships, my holy cadre
of white tech space travel ships.
GOD as a channel. like the lightning that
makes a portal active. The sign, his name hung high
like a horse shoe but in a language that knows
the shapes of birds, the wind around an ear,
the movement of leaves from a street corner
and how an idea is born in a moment
and manifested in an internal individualized
psychic reality. spoken. observed. shaped with
hands or a facial reaction. action. let go. remembered.
I will welcome this liquid stream. My heart a wishing well
to my soul. This naked language of trees and currents
in an ocean, why a raindrop, drops and who
invented an arco iris. a flower opens to her sisters, a pinecone
falls on a bed of pine needles. I will weave like a pollen bundle,
I will weave like a brook, I will weave like her feet
and his groin. I will weave like a sunset. I will
weave like he flowers, night dowery, moon and rainfall.
Strangle vines good as my bed.
I will eat some slugs, snails and something else around.
a tuber, some tea.
And i will finance a peach.
Yo SOY, el durazno.
I will go down the coast. My movements, my movements.
Is this one of those things, like windchimes
and windchimes and gails and fields? The
wind, fuller than a breeze and more ondo
than a gale. No lyrics, just fullness
of being of wind so full, so deep
it knows your extent and my phantom womb, her lillies full,
love the gale. safer than an undertow a friend of
angelic proportions. How else could i hear
forrested friends call through space, time?
Like water running through time as feather ether.
Dragon weather, My claim to your soil.
The reason i love you and how i hear
about love, life, your cousin and his bones
your paper crown. Something else that steadies
me. I am. guided. protected by him/her.
The wind. a trust. in pressure by
an invisible lover's body. the reason I
pay attention. the humbling of birds.
NOT- their folly. how a bird trusts wind in the
sky is a practice in the tao. the way.
their way. how I love you. the wind.
the stream, an ocean. A lake. my timidity
My fear, the trust that i drown. The trust
that i drown into life. the faith
of weightlessness. the worlds of worlds.
my mother's dowery her womb and her
purse. her neighborhood, the vastness
of her reign. an enchantment of moments.
veils within veils within veils within veils.
And waterwheels still turn. I piss in the
Ocean in her lakes and streams. She
doesnt notice or she puts up with it.
I am her child, she buries her own and there
are graveyards in her body, an ancient temple
of her rib cage, her death through her death
through her death. the templars or light beings
that must attend to her death lands.
where i'd like to poke around.
their blood and blind eyes.
his. her roll over and her laughter at it.
our temper. his'.
I am on the coast, dreaming of the darkest
heresies. I trouble over evil empire and her
negligent brain deleriums. Like the maddening of
a consciousness over the triviality of an insane world.
my mother cries for me.
I am upset at her.
Perhaps she should shop for my husband for me,
save me some time.
buy my job for me, save me some face.
dress me as her own
and plug my face to answer
to her and her alone.
I am her blackbird, red wing
I am, loon, knowing her depths
her efficient complexity, her
King, I am I am
my mother's King
Prince boy and child
I refuse to take less
Than my mother's milk
I am greedy of what is due to me
her leche, my sister on the other side
I would tear at your face and push you away
leave me on her tit. I know her better than you.
You do not know me.
I am your slain sun.
I am your dead earth.
you WOULD trample my greens
and laugh at the sky for her tears
her crimes stain my flesh. I am her womb blood
Pink and white and red and blue
I am scarlet and plum, more my mother's
than her mothiness has placed.
I am lost child in her mirror
I am your lost and fornicated child.
I am your bicho
I am your trampled - wha? wha?
whatever was there.
You do not know me and I am to owe myself to you.
how much of me would you like?
would you skin me? rub the fattiness
on your starshine, sunlight
ask for the warmth of my redemtion so that
your coals may keep you warm
the shallowness of your being, less frigid.
you, less alone.
I am your pink lemonade and scarlet theory
one for table and one lost in time
you do not know my heresy
mine is to the heart
yours is to your sight
do not near yourself to me
i do not owe my heart to you
I owe it to the universal theatre
of mine and mine joy.
You do no mark me, you eat and bore your flesh..
.. within my circle, a circe circle and drawn
down by my proud and jealous mother
you do NOT see into my eyes.
I am your back door entrance
and your bastardization
you do not owe me anything
leave me be
You WILL not take me from my kin
I am bramble made and bees do
nOt defeat their blueprints.
their queen is not your whore.
My mother does not owe you her patience
yours is a kingdom barren and mine is
mine as a choice a matter
an antigravity cuogualant, left up to the movement
of dna and stars
my dew - a cosmosis
my birthing. you WILL NOT
View me. I am NOT your Whore
Nor your easy brother. I am a child. I am your
excuse for an empty space and movement
I am your pollen, honey king
I am August Moon full and my thighs
are not for or of vaginas. my mother's
wound is that i was not made for her.
My mother does not owe you a moment's peace.
I am August my life is not my life untill
my early Autumn has ushered me into a not so
backwards arrangement of my time in space.
I am mysteries beyond your television
I am mini dots unto a complete image, comic.
step up step back and watch a god in
to HIM is his, creation.
HER's is so much older than you'll know.
she came before him and set up her
temple pillars. She is no fool. She is the first
to ONE. He is still a mystery to me.
I am August full borne in promise.
My plate is black and my shoes are stiffer
than my fruit. I am black, held, as a child.
My promise is my fullness-purple, royal and red.
This presence, she stains with wine - even the fullness
of wood. My days are late, I am late August.
I lost to NO ONE, I am a child of GOD in his
promise. I am misplaced quilt of faith. A darner
I darn for years, I have mended my faith,
since i was a child. Different portions, faith takes weight
in privelege. The sun does not beg for a lighter
weight in his height. I do not complain my blood over
my spirit. She is equal in weight. Yes my blood is
strongly female. She chose me August. Full of fire, fury.
I am, tale end or perhaps nuzzle nose of
leo. I am a day or two off from the virgin's entrance. the virgin's embrace.
She is my fatima, full of grace, and to her i owe and understand.
Hush child. My rage is not foul. My fire is stoked
by the WORLD and sky, milk eyed mender and sylvan djinn.
The Virgin in Red tending
to coals, she makes sure an august fire is not
her pity's pride. I am Sweet potato and first
harvest vines. I am not her slain, I am slain
before your eyes. were you to slay my flesh
dismember me, son, before my father's watchfull
Brilliance in the sky, she would hold me and
i would again be the lamb on you. the blood you'd
spare for another hour. she does not forget.
My Mother, blood, her blood as same as I - lamb
of god. I am here. She is so. My blood brought
me full to blackberries and an honest lesson of
creation. I am missing pillar of the torah.
I am Granted Green. I know my promise. I take
my answers to my lord.
The land is not always as sweet as it comes.
I am cold august mornings, dew and fog. Freshen the earth,
I KNOW my garden. I am not your illiterate place
holder. HE is nOt the fleece you use to insulate
a promise of rice powder skin and darker sin
alloted to mama's fullness or for that matter
her children's DNA swirls. I am virgin pride, virgin
wool, hart width and hind knows.
I am late August child. I am my sister's
peddler of her divorced eggs. red and green.
no, I am the one with my hands in the batter.
fingers lickin my mouth, tongue a lazy
compatriot to your sale. I know my pavement.
I am her heraldry arrangement. the word on her
invitation, the cost of our brilliance. I am balsamic
moon. She needs no reason to interpret her fullness.
just to read. to and fro. she is my julian
standard bearer. I am her arrangement for fall,
she sees why. I am her squid, in a swimming pool
she is royal luxury concerned with inheritence.
She is funny glowing seastar on my bedroom wall. Nightlight
and i am reason to relax. I am INKY....
reason for WHATEVER...
You do not own me. I am Autumn's silent footsteps.
I am nurse-maid-child in thorns, ass in apple bucket
I am 7, pants down and masturbating furiously. singing
about everything that'd fit in my bum, given time.
I am her veiled sister as a man. I am angry
mended mouth foreigner with waxen peak and cold
passages. you do not see us. we are the softer side
the warmer recollection of the cold hate you hide in your iron laugh.
The sort that is sourly boxing your voice to
your changing vice. You are up down and all around.
We are not as crazy. We are no Coven. To be honest
afore myself, this bothers some of you. You of
greedy eyes and bad manners. You are my excuse
for another good meal. I am insatiable sour in my light-sugar
youth. I bend around corners while you crash.
We are no coven. We are blood. as old as your keepsakes
and older still than we have yet to remember. I am my mother's
reason for a silent autumn of warm leaves and
passage. I am my grandmother's answer to fear.
I am not as grim as ghastly be, I am boon-beamer,
moon beamer, star shine singing libberally and devoid of
For your sins. Don't touch my foreskin I am
Not your rotting gloves nor your misplaced
manners. I am bloodlines older than time new what to do
with so she shut me up in a myriad of directions.
Only to gift me a chance to sing. You do not know me.
I am answers attractions hated only to be betrayed by
other's cowardice only to find what in myself i hated
first - too small a squid to portion my fire passion - anger.
So easily i rotted my waves to
black bile sour stagnancy acrid burning two extremes on
the ph chart of an unforgiving hell spun wasteland.
i am a world of childhellspun and aware of
what you fear, love, hate. your soft precious
corners and curves. your inlets your outlets
your eyelets on your shoes. I am you.
and yet so much different than your
eyeware shoes you. I am your elusive lucky chance.
I am a boy child come age like wine, dreams,
the furtherance of faith and come to an opportunity
to have sex with the living earth. I am black berries
as a promise to someone luckier than you. I caught you.
you will not touch me. you will not steal my mirth and
i do not fear your cold winds. they are just cold.
and darn cold at that.
We do not hate you. I am extra blanket
for fall, I am Autumn black. I am Autumn owes.
mine a bounty she returns come Autumn's she is far warmer
now, she-me she my blood in espiritus. Always violet and pink
amongst her purple scarlet golden flame. What it is to be alight for
yourself. Like drag but YOU and annointed and aflame
with passion. Like your base on fire, only up and
beautiful. To be fully present for life.
I am naked male child running uncircumcised in the water
of the rain and the streets loving myself and each foot a muddy
full step. I am louder yet silent still with fall.
The rain cold, so I am no more super me.
My limit, the farenheit's decrease.
A temperature battle.
I'll show them..
I am my mother's secret unknown in a male child.
I am My grandmother's excuse to be that much
free-er with her intake of breathe. her open window
and her misty early evening stroll.
My sister does not take easily to you.
I approach you, as not to be trusted.
we are demanding. we will not be demanded. I hate you
at points. and then i get over it. your rules. your game.
You do not own me. Or my movements I am completion
in creation - there's always something more.
I am mending my opportunities I am gifts
eye inside opportunity. I am the reason I have a life.
I am your excuse for what you want. I eat, your filth.
at times. I am too oil slicked grunged and entranced
to be so for your easy moments. do you see a moment
see how it fits see where it goes see how it acts, reacts,
what it means, weigh principle, invest in options, help it grow
I am fern gulley's portal carrier.
thumb up, my bum, thum up, I know what I was
made for. I am accountant to entrances.
I am no easy whore for yours is yours as yours
I am. architect, editor, artist of life.
I am no one to you.
I am, go away you only betray.
I am, leave me I know how young you are in your wei.
I am leave me, You have no hold over fortune
nor does she care about your sour bitter sopapillas.
leave me. You are no one to me.
You are. My midst. I am not of you.
I do not want you in me nor would i enjoy
to be in you. Do not touch my body. I am
your dark doubts and your murdered innocent. I am
fetal and childlike. I am me. I am baby lazaro
and I'd still pick your pockets.
Do not burn your lips. I am done with
wasting time. I am for sheep.
I will see the bay of San Francisco
from atop it. I will love the hills that
surround her. I am trolli Zeit-wise and Aqua for a
reason. Trees and their treason.
I am a squirm
and my sperm is to worm what
fart is to bart. simpson.
dont be rude. I am broken telegraph. Opportunity
for an ongoing comuni-KAY.
I am. I am.
I will be sweet and salt and
new jeans in San Francisco.
I will be in love.
I will see me, angels rise
and reasons for other worlds.
I will find odors and cedars in San Francisco.
I will hunt colors. And leave devotionals
to colors magnetic, implicated in dove's
I am portugese excuse
for a reason to care.
I am anise whisper, mantas
de miel. I am troubled
and dead in my passage.
I am hunter of exquisite curves
and atrocious angles. I have meaning
to evolution. I am pusher
of meems and please leave your mensaje with us.
we have two ears for a reason.
and one mouth for a different reason.
I am my love lost, broken and cold
and jealousy burning. I am greed of hearts
and a stain of underpants, lips bruised
with piercings and hips always there.
I am your candy magic trick
and your useless excuses.
I am a traveller of time sinks
and I am an alloted race
for myself. I am symbol
and metaphor chosen and not
created. I am chocolate
grab bag abd sweet n sour
candy tab executioner.
I am swallow and martin's friend
I am sleeping beauty outside of
your trends. I am wraeththu and
fortune fold. I am reason you don't
go to college and reason you find
hope. I am wind and whiny
attitude towards cloads. I am
suddeness and holder of harmonics.
I am shy fascinator. I am reason
I am to hate or love you. I am
your faith folded in and of itself
hidden and crying, I am your exhaustion
at moments of opportunity.
I am reasons for wet backs to continue
whetting their backs. I am your
Ragged Robbins and blacker tongues.
I am nest and egg, failure to hold and
comprehend. I am sutures in insanity
and reasons for mirrors and ghosts
and sheets and lady's faith. Please.
a moment for the Wine. I am where you
are not. stumbling in grace and your grace
is - well - wasted in your face.
I am reasons for adieu, bon nuit and
bon soir. I am fletcher and arrow.
I am little boy with fingers like candy
and hair like c-foam and reason my
reason is ma vie en rose.
I am your hidden angel and the
reason you lose to lose.
I am the satiated life and time sipping tea.
I am the other side of sanity and the reason
things fall apart. I know my spaces and
heaven is a moment, an exodus of sorts
and a reason my understandings are taken with distance,
precision, allegory, metaphor and incredulousness.
I am no longer myself. I am dead.
I am black and white, my shame - color.
my heart a rainbow heathen, dum supper
and child in front of the tree.
your lack, my gain.
I am, your greed.