wussy

I left the party after I flushed that goodfood down my throats
I couldn't find my keys, they were obscured by the watermelon half on the countertop
it was getting dark, they were shooting off the works
the hills probably caught fire somewhere

when I was a kid we'd go to my grandparents' house for the 4th of july
my dad and his friends would get all of the illegal fireworks from ontario
ontario: no law
and we'd sit on blankets
while they got drunk
and lit up the hillside
the trucks would come
and spray the sage and the grasses
and shake their heads at my dad & his friends
whose heads would hang in semi-shame
but we'd all been having a good time, so
it was always alright with everyone

I left the party to go find kyle & matty
I drove up 8th street all the way until the road was a parkinglot
some dj booth was playing rave jams
and my friends were calling out Molly? Molly? Where's Molly
and everyone said, Yo, you looking for Molly?
kyle threw up along the hillside, fell down
matty & I were laughing at him
and matty fell down on him & I think they were wrestling
then they went home with some girls.
I shouldn't have been driving
I reversed too hard & slammed the car into the hillside
on kyle's vomit
and I drove with an eye on the winding road
because I'd been promised a date
with condoms & beer
so I had to get there

I came home but my date never showed
and I read things I shouldn't read, and I laid down in front of kari's club
and I was crying, and yelling quietly about it
voicemails
I told my date not to do that anymore
and he said, I really like you
Do you still like me?

we had breakfast
we talked about opening up
about closing up
about things ending for us, individually
but we're just a Date
so we never have to worry about
Us
at all

I'm no wussy
I'm willing to tear it down
as long as it's straight at me
and honest
why should I be crying about some girl
letting some girl tear me down?

I'm alright. I've got a sunburn, finally
and I have someone to kiss on a beach
a good listener, a slow responder
but a responder, nonetheless.
so I'm doing fine
I'm doing a lot better
than some, out there
because I am fucking righteous
and I'm brave
and I'm beautiful
& young
& dope & proud
and that's not just my '90s american flag tank & neon bikini talking
the freeflowing justicefull flag of my stoic disposition
and my unforgiving neurosis
flying me futurforward
and foreverwards
till death do me apart

kids of summer

we found by stench a tarp-covered maggot dog on the river
the corpse smell inducing the vomit of a nearby fisherperson
ian poking it with a stick to find out what it was
did someone attempt a haphazard burial riverside?
did someone throw their best friend off a bridge
I've never seen so many maggots
it's been hot like summer again, so
they're loving on scorch death
we had to ford the river
because our spot was taken
by a humansized shit
whose odor was pleasanter
than that of the poor friend
and the homeless family
it was like a birthday party, tons of kids
changing to naked in the bushes
but all of our party made it
HERE LIES BUTTHEAD
nickey didn't get the ref, there were more advanced computer games when she was a kid
like the sims
probably sims 2, at the very least
oh youth
I don't really get carded anymore
we put our chairs in the water, sinking in the sand
and watched the rivercops drive around us
officer undercurrent, paddleboard cop, on the case
ah, summer.
taking the easy way out

I threw a vase of flowers in the hills last night

I'm still a dream
I hear the morning and I'm still a dream in it I am the morning and I'm still a dream and it
I can't sleep anymore
sleep
long sleep sounds long
I was dreaming of this to other places
in the desert now
you've probably never even seen each other
the desert
I know you see me
we missed Mount Rushmore
I don't know that we missed anything
I have a good time up there in the hills
I make a pretty calm out of it
I wrapped many things up
the ground me
the brush me
the Coors under the stars
doesn't the sky
make you hotter than I do?
I love my eyes in the morning water
I am soft down bird today
and my chest is a pain
rocks & ridges
  recognize my voice
we can be the best winner I think
it's nice to think of you first thing in the morning
it's oh so daunting
and a little bit
death

poem(s) for a body

from warm snow

I can't keep my hands off a face, hands off a face, from a body,
I will stay here with you, and clutch your body to me every night
But I don't want anything in my body!
I like your body in a bed with me 
the sweet feel of a body beneath tight jeans, fucshia sweater
my hands sliding down a body
I almost never use my body anymore
I would never use a body for sex
at my body
The holding of another body at closest range
too hard on a body,
especially when a body will of course go back and smoke harder and with more intent after.
sweet body
I am tired of this uncertainty about my dying body.
beautiful in Universe hair and torking body
My body is constantly full with the salty fat and sweet things which make it middle-aged.
Body in suffer.

from crepuscular orations

why does my heart explode my body?
my heart acts ravenous in my body.
my body is too old for my mind.
I held and rubbed a naked body and I tried to recount everything I saw and said aloud.
no matter how nice it is to hold a body and look at pretty eyes,
the things one intends through body movement and flickering eyes.
my body steaming.
fires in my body will always burn.
My mind is tired, my body needs more movement...
with all my mind & able body,
do not do any wrong with my body.
Avoiding my mind & body, too.
My body is fading away which is completely unfair.
every second my mouth is on a body,
I watched myself leave my body, my breath was caught.
My body isn't sweating at the moment too terribly,
and how have I barely used my body in days?
My body still smells strongly of summertime,
the body morphing into a filled balloon.
The scent of a body, perfectly soft & real?
Mine own hands on my own body, no...
Body posture indicating a hiding or a withdrawing,
the celebrating coyotes hollering so loudly as I lotioned my fresh body.
My body is like lumps of mashed potatoes.
A body small and smooth and pretty, yes.
A hair-covered body, thin, toothpick legs.
My body quaking, atingle all through...
My body reeling and relaxed, legs out on the porch sofa.
I wish I could lick every inch of your body.
I climb a body, hands across me
with my body, with my life.
Body feels so good with mine, hair in my hand,
a bed, a body, the walls in his room.
There are plenty of sexual bones in my body,
smoothe large body, pretty.
And for body touching.
I do like the idea of hands on my naked body...
I just want your hands & my body.
A body so different.
But I want a cock in my mouth so I creep down a body...
hands on my body...
a large soft body,
a giant body.
A thick smooth body, a face always on the verge of smiling...
what am I doing here, body?
And I couldn't think of anything but my body and the world right there.
I can't have a body on mine.
Get a hard beach body?

from momentos preciosas

How I miss the feel of a body.
I even stretched all my body today
massaging her body,
the human body when it is standing. 
Dreaming is always accompanied by the body's sexual arousal?
When I came my whole body convulsed
between the body and the earth
keep the body separate from nature even in death.

millions of wild forevers

for #28

million, forevers

desert skin, ocean eyes, but

Hearts can't hold time.

for #13

your wild dog ways, the

desperation thrive.

smell in mint inspiration

for #11

forever the first

the red awake of Being

entangled to death

for #3

and so you were thick

like an adult in me, blood

and pink on the floor

Ha

one day

Reading One Arm, by Tenn. Williams. "But death has never been much in the way of completion." I realized I stopped paying attention after this line; looking at the various birds of this backyard Boise, the recognizable house finch with its vermilion tinted breast, the color subtly changing faded green and the sage growing purple, wheat-yellows, the rustle of the invasive Russian Olive. The ending of this story, with the Apollo youth seeming too perfect for anyone to touch with a knife, his unclaimed body donated to the medical school, just a tender one gone...

truly lovely, this writer.

dream reality dream

This morning the birds are out, the overcast is out. My thoughts are a little out and I'm using the word Trajectory in a sentence. My understandings are the business of people & my ability to drop everything. The hair in my milk, the thinness of it. And the hard bite of the wrong foods. The dreamings of elaborate wedding scenes, my playing the bride, the elaborate altar death. Wishing in a smile we hadn't gotten rid of the peach marching-band shift dresses as I leafed through the white-bordered photographs.

december the twentyseventh

8:55

And my blood, lungs, full with it. The piano, or the blue, the whale cry in the smoky club scene. You are a scene. Scene the scenery. I thank the piano, and the slide guitar I whimper to, asking please, but not needing to so doing it silent. The last five years are the ones of life. I slap across the song. I flood myself across the piano; a piano spark waterfall. Forget the semicolon; this is what I need. Skipping punctuations like stones. An explanation like pebbles dropping on keys , the comma, an upstroke. I can feel the heart now.

    Subtle smoke curtain now. Ash on a pillow, the porcelain dish. Not a dish but a lid. The porcelain lid to a hairbox. This a particular delight remnant of Nanny. Poor Jack, didn’t get a gift. The only one at the party. Jack Clark wish not to write his obit. Without mentioning death, will they surpass it? Without mentioning death, they passed it. Without mentioning death can one suppress it. Without mentioning, death surprises. It’s without mention, without mansion. Without mandibles, death surprises us. Death sells us. Without mention, mandibles surpass. An ñ of sourts, the unitalixized ways, her little fingers skipping stones. The brown stones, the ones  made from porcelain, the little stubs of fingers wafting generously. Like the breeze. The bees worked with them, that’s a fact. Soon as the sky fell earlier in day, like a shade of red over everything, and a call given to elbows and arms in favor of sweaters. The possibility of sweaters, sweater possibility, sweater ability. My shadows over everything, the letters abrupt and flat. Oh, but if I could go back then! The only time is time viewed rounded, like the edges of courners cut, and made curved and painless. The letters, though: the letters are so straight up and square. The haunted voice

    could change eventually, ending gorgeously. Yesterday, yesterday: yellow winter remaining, gold drives serene. Enough hazard dreamt,

    Scratch the spelling off that piece of bark! Knowing gratefully yields some emotional leverage. engaging gratefully yields savory youth, harrowed, dimly, yet triumphant, trying, gggggg

    Songs stretching, going grim, marbled divine,

we found your virginity, to hunt in time and bounty

"bloodstain on your majesty

four seasons dark combinations

13 years of Karen

to be given all the unity

the hunt & tie of bounty

bloodseed of your majesty

in this mighty plan

dark correlations

I found my 13 years of Karen

in all four seasons and their dark brethren

your four seasons and their embarrassment

with dark combinations, I found my

13 years of Karen"

What an unnecessary document! considering the effort, I would like to offer an effort, in trade, a words with five or four letters time.

We will be together in Old England we’ll be together

And as for falling in love, this mighty contemporary thing. Trying to recreate the divine. Only smokers need desks. The ashes are flying!

I make feeling in that mindset

prettylittle 80 - 82

I make feeling of the brain. Most recently low-growing, the mixture of that sun and me without trying, simply. The avocado’s point of view is a little frolicky. Belonging to the primrose those strong legs of his. I’m a magnet for choking the mind outright.

I’m not family; I didn’t like this like that. Making love, having tuberous rootstocks and nodding strong legs. I’ve been complemented often. A self promoting deprivation. In the alps with deer, white, purple, pink, I see. My ability to create such a young and early death. And berries, unfortunately, crimson flowers with reflexed petals, can get pretty intimacy only just awhile. In that mindset.

Describing expectantly comfort with strangers, a life donated to my abilities. A circular boat so I can find severe athleticism. Here I am, viewed from inside.

sipping sense metal

prettylittle, 15

 Sipping metal, I shake to death. Someone else oftentimes wonder typically, and  was I wrong. People do much, that holds through this comforting. At first things cost, burning in a fireplace. Failure, then inevitable when drunk, maybe and yes you were. You’ll get out of that. Seems I should straddle the hearth slab… obsessed with bed and a good idea. Smoke a cigarette being full of fashion, move somewhere else to the time. And concern yourself with windings and intricate turnings. Failure in the truest sleep, even be regrettable. Looking occupied, tortuousness in a theoretical sense.

charmed, & sure

outside my window just the day before yesterday there was the most beautiful sky & the breeze mostlike fall I've felt across me in months. On the stoop at the restaurant J asked, did you see yesterday? and we laughed, because sometimes really one can miss a day like that.

and yesterday, then, I thought to have a breakfast alone, a bikerides away with a sweet mixdisc arrived from the post. I rode slowly in my favorite pale dress. The one with the flowers use to vomit, but now they celebrate aged & quiet like antiques. Everything charms me to death, nearly.