a song for love in the new year

songs with women's names
the number 14
the light of the moon, near full
I avoid it!
 I don't avoid it
I avoid the urge to
my ring slipping round my finger,
  maria        laura        marlene

a train   choos

   10:53 pm, tomorrow
(this time of year, the nights fall longer)
so let your beard grow round your neck
and your torso
and past your new boots
and down my throat

make me toast

        read your fortune!
        little new-year son

I always have liked
the german pronunciation
for marlene

the soft lilt,
the forgiving!
                         (do you remember proclaiming
                           that you'd never love someone
                           that you'd never love someone explaining
                           that you'd never truly love someone
                              who's never caught exclaiming)

  oh, me!


       hello, little new-year babe
        hellow, last smoke of smokes
       hello, pretty whistle
     of pretty, nearby train
        hello, sleeping city-that-won't
                                        the oh-she-won't-quit place

                               dreamy babe,
                              I've never said this to anything
                            I've never been that guy
                              But I wanna die in You

      and, therefore
    thereby

    tinkle
         tinkle
               tinkle
                      little bell, ring
                                           ring
                                               ring in me
whistle past our bedscapes

on this day

In the wintertime, everything you know which lives is dead, and if not dead, asleep in a powerful example. I was making love to my dictionary yesterday; it is a dictionary used to belong to Mrs. I.W. Stoddard, also known as Aunt Mae (I wear, usually, her golden ring embossed with our shared initials on my wedding-finger), and she wrote this name in its front cover in March 1940, so this I know as I see it writ right there. The book is rubber banded as pages of it do fall out in haste. Well anyway, I discovered a good many words and somethings about myself, as well: for instance, I am quite ashamed to have written down so many words beginning with specific letters to form a sort of acrostic telling the story in a short graphic novel I've written. There are a few such runon sentences typical, and also the gratuitous use of large words I can't define. (I must get ahold in me a cold cup of beer.) Also typical. But I wonder? Could I get ahold of a rather large and impressive dictionary with whom to make love? I hope it. Listen... I have some big ideas. This is too personal for the intranet to bear.

enter enough, tip of true

prettylittle, 13 - 14

Enter tip of tongue, temperature as the gazing fact: I’m sitting alone, at or on or near the sun. And the hands on him now would be large.

Ameliorate the sun. Hips to go against, I keep thinking to make something care. Waist, neck, and everything I’m attempting. Someone will see better. I’m sweating myself, a finger behind the ear. At just this moment, find me. Amity explosive. Stroking a stubbled chin, it would be interesting friendship. Grease congeals me cleft, to lower myself to myself and begin anathematic. To this and then that, the most useless of positions, strange & heated, relating. Spills, drips down, goes away and he shouldn’t have given me his conversation. Something me, onto me. Remember me with me. Vehemently hurry before I bed true enough.