May 13, 2013
Nouvelle Vague - Manner of Speaking & sex in our little world of unselves
silently
my shadow
snakes across your waking grin—
I have ascended on you.
To melt in my mouth?
Yes. Open-ended.
Oh, I. Am. Feeling a
comprehensive rise.
I will have to slide down and open my invisible jaw.
Heh.. I haven't decided if your blackest eyelashes
in all of their monofilament depth
are soft as wings or if they give me the creeps..
OKAY. That just ruined the moment.
Oh, geeeeeeeez.
May 12, 2013
of moon spikes and bad radio listings
we stayed up late at someone else's garden party
a quarter to two and I'm thinking
wildly
impressed with the enormity of how small-time is
drinking a 'slow low'
next to the charcoal grill and
sleepy
white blossoms
I pull a nickle and take a drag
of what I like to call
grounded oyster -
'I'll tell you what'
you were the lumpy to my bumpy
under that dern
canoe
May 10, 2013
oh wow!
how cool it is to be able to fly thru the internet instead of having to crawl on broken glass! i have a new ISP! ... !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i don't want to leave for work!
May 3, 2013
crackin' on the magic or
shoot the angel tethered to the grave
and the night presses against the tiny aspen
and the hunter's aim shifts
over shadow
over space
how's that for poetic lace?
a flutter to the bruise?
nah, your words only calm and stradle
thanks. i love you, too.
................
-another time-
forsaken.
on the back of the photo you wrote,
'they never came'.
another rite of passage -
the dark, white
surf, rushes our house by the sea
you ignite
the dangling from within;
this dreamed universe
extended.
I miss you:
ring-of-chandelier, hot-pin
.x.
gravel of sea-chatter
light in-this-s]hell
............
i know you hate indie.
but. this song reminds me of you.
and the night presses against the tiny aspen
and the hunter's aim shifts
over shadow
over space
how's that for poetic lace?
a flutter to the bruise?
nah, your words only calm and stradle
thanks. i love you, too.
................
-another time-
forsaken.
on the back of the photo you wrote,
'they never came'.
another rite of passage -
the dark, white
surf, rushes our house by the sea
you ignite
the dangling from within;
this dreamed universe
extended.
I miss you:
ring-of-chandelier, hot-pin
.x.
gravel of sea-chatter
light in-this-s]hell
............
i know you hate indie.
but. this song reminds me of you.
Apr 14, 2013
the miles cast slippery bends, up ahead
Nina keeps her eyes on the road
the bangles on her arms;
small silver songs
as innocuous as
the sun in the perfect blue sky
next to her -
he lay like a rock in his blanket
a corpse
the alive
scooped from his whole being
eyes black as a funeral
she hated when he got this way
hated it all
for him
and for herself
are you thirsty
no
your soul may melt into your body's fever
the soul is a river
it flows forever
winds around the stars
like a ribbon
god
you are so
dialed-in
sorry
she tries to smile but it feels shaky
and fake -
she felt like a moon's crater
spread with embalming fluid
slow down
you're speeding
suddenly she hates the metal box
that is his heart
she hates being afraid
she hates feeling alone
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