notes: yr cold air

leash it, Sarah and

be the sun -drunk- pushing

through coy & precious

clouds crowding

out the night

eating all his rice

flea-by-flea

quarantined &

quarantined &

pinion to light

he is not polite, nor nice. he

does not deserve his sight, a gift

too-big too-bright for such a fetid blight,

feel no shame if only for this single hour:

'ruat justitia, fiat caelum,' Sarah.

one face gleams

another yet stalks

congress whispers two

two ears to walls refuse to talk

but, all in wingless glide

handcuffed alight

side by side by side by side by side by side

[ ... ]

notes: In The Fall

no kiss to heal

i feel so naive, the way

children devour paternal love

with no intelligent comprehension

but understand when the thing is too fragile

when the lonely couple is weak, i

wean myself off petulence then cut

what remains, hard diagonal slices

stick to the soil, resolved in nude patience

and, now, free of sexuality. opposed

we are when our lovers sicken in the Fall

so natural, the sickness its opposition

its patient, weathered color; out of a breeze

your son will snatch the maple seed

straight soft fingers

sticky with sap, pull apart its belly

and press it to his nose.

notes: beach song

Affectionate, but underwhelming

wearing too much deep green on mayonnaise skin

an ounce on yr sunshy hip

( yr shamrock is small

( & will stay small )

Dote: Kicking sand into the dry breeze

thick meals slowly souring under the sun's thumb

hungry teens

_their stomach

_their mind

_their heart

_their hands

_their upturned

eye. wild peaks of perfect waves.

what was from yr womb

dropped into the red morning sand

tongued clean, a relic sanctified in predawn ache.

middle names

You think too long

about what else belongs

in yr coffee, "One large

uh Coffee. With, uhmilk? And

uh. Yeah, and one. Uh..

Uh. Twouh, sugars. And

Sugar. One, no two sugars."

I focus too long on

anger, desire to let hate

warm the mouth, splash

gums & teeth with whatever

sweet becomes when it is broken down.

Some are bitter, some are numb

noodling back & forth in yr mesh shorts

on yr soft clean rubbery basketball shoes.

notes: dip

dip

yr feet in the frigid

sea, with everything right & wrong

to no man marching belongs

no is a not-thing, no

temptress, no

burnbleaching sun, no

vacuum blanket of pure dust

choked static

yr ankle coming up, the ripple

yr final tow, apple red paint

...

notes: simple shit you writ

if yr mother likes the simple shit you writ

if there's nothing subtle

nor an empty spoonful of softskulling wit

if yr tongue don't click with a sharp tin tick

puddle cuddle shuttle scuttle rebuttal

if wet words peel neatly off the tile before yr bent-over sick

[if there's nothing worth ascent

this pretty poison won't pass for poison treasure.]

some notes

it is this photo or the next, where i love you. so which you will i see: someone's rich little girl or she weilding beauty's hammer? no though it is you i love, here you're grey. grey and sparse, a shell of our performer but gorgeous beyond their compare. for they are fools and perpetrators of gold and folly and know nothing of beauty. yeah,that's a good feeling, now .

comparing photos, i only have

the strength to love one: i cant see the heat in anything wrong

if you turn the volume down the echoes are gone and n the crazy is from another world.

cold ghosts kissing

cold ghosts kissing

at our hair, we aren't

scared, but they

get up to leave

and when they aren't there

fan's breath across our neck

it's ours for the breaking.

cause he did it

cause he did it, i do it

cause i always did it

since catch, since sea legs

and i'll always do it

until i'm, for the better part, upright

though my springs may

be choked & need replacing

and i can do it for the first time,

fingers fluent in ambition & sport

if i don't do it, they'll do it to me

(cause he always did it.)

working on it:

New Game 2

like my tongue cutting the corners of your jaw

...then

a light-tight spasm bucks your beating breast

......then

biting your lip, you're above yourself

riding a breathless gush

of heat. & i'm between.

Afraid to Say Your Name 3

i cannot bear where dust collects

across the window pane

sun falling through, an exposure

a public undressing, i do not care

for busy & benign women, nor

their well-mannered hair & polished

sapphire attractions.

when your shirt is pulled slowly over your ribs

i look away, afraid of the things i could do.