Oceania

i miss u

didn't even realize how much till i found your old blog profile. that whole thing about the ocean made all my mornings softer. i continue clicking my life away, without you. but the poems are gone. the words, empty. dictionaries of silence. the hotel room, just an empty sheet of paper.
i sweep past your posts. bare soles * older & older, we both laughed at him, together. . the way he thinks he knows.


Monday, July 18, 2005

sleep baby, sleep..

while the devil
shepherds your
eyelids thru reincarnations
the braille of scar
& informal workshops
sleep baby, sleep

and know that you are loved

like the quiet key or
a jungle flower --- ants in the hollow stem
racing to secret destinations

& so the heart beats on

........

it was always blue on blue. we never kissed, never really even wanted to. and every one i gave you, you took.




begin again
with the soft thing
begin again and send me words
shaped in an isle of smoke



*


Sunday, July 24, 2005

no heroes..
only deep pockets
of varied storms
playing about this city and its smoking digits
its crying lambs & down time

souls partially reflected in eddies
darker than venereal gums
or the ebony-handled knife
stroking a soft cheek


*


Corkscrew Misdemeanor

It's like you suck off my boots

with each sip

& run ahead of the soundtrack

a hushed chorus of synthetic noise

caught in your eyebrow

and yes

you pour and

I sink

into


*

baby, baby, baby, baby...


Collapsing, Moans Cloudhead, Rain Unto Earth

and I am perched on the tip of something big

this may take all day

he burns new and bright

his elbows and feet
awkward and sweet

his hands
dew-slick windings

his mouth tastes of woodsmoke
I imagine its dark color.........

*

[ here is where i would post your beautiful face but what is the point ]


*

THIS DAY, A FRIDAY

the hours are:

leaves
drowned ideas
lost creatures
trains
dark shawls
automobiles (whispers)

a perfume of black wings & lost things.

shiny ping-tings
my hand in your no-
where-shadow

sickles in cells

your smile.. a twisted gin sour

i like it when you

sample

yourself.

........



what is on the nightstand now? an overture of ash in your cup and the clear skyy spill?

how long will you stay
box writing
plucking the dark
waiting for me to do it to a real girl
and seeing your face
maybe i don't want to come back
a pennant for you to dip in salt
to suck, silt & stroke
to roast when the mood strikes




Sep 9, 2006

Fragments 1 - 37

Hey Flatfish X,
you need butcher paper & portable legs
to fall with occasion
~
then at cum window (not yet written)
girl hail & text trances
~
Nina didn't care whether or not the room overlooked the harbor
she was depressed and only wanted to sleep.
~
dream 1
she was standing in a round, flying machine
they were cruising over an island, spotted with palm trees, he was speaking and she was laughing
there was a large, silver purse slung over her shoulder
when she moved
it sparkled
~
outside small waves leave their foam upon the shore
~
in the room next door
a man with tangled eyes
writes:

death music

our last ash drops into the air
we become gigantic stars that walk among the trees
below us wavers wave away the last wave
to brush silver from their hair
~