a poem for lips

from crepuscular orations

the last kiss, the mouths & lips.
those lips.
his huge lips smacking for no reason.
his lips... his mediocre hypochondria
on my lips, on my genitalia, on my beings.
Your lips & your height aren't going to be enough for me.
Your lazy lips letting themselves be,
his lovely full lips and curly dark hair.
Where mouths biting and lips everywhere,
like the flat lips of a fish
but what if I reached across the bar there and touched his lips...
This is lips are awesome, oh, why don't I have thick, full lips just for this purpose...
using my mouth and tongue and lips as they're meant to be used.
My mouth and lips and tongues over his,
my lips are sealed.
What's with the seven little kisses on my lips?
Lips in slight smile.
Lovely full lips parted,
his breath I dislike and his lips are soft and formless.
His lips want to make someone fall in love with him.
He uses lips with what they are and tongue sparingly.
He kissed me very softly on the lips and I saw animated triangles.

the real really happening

The new day, old songs. Is it easy to tell, now? Until tomorrow. If it has been at least two weeks, and untrustable they are to bring the truths to us. How truthful is enough. How much does one say to make another comfortable. How often does one say it before lying. How likely am I thoughtless of the others. How deep am I swimming in it. How much does he mean it. How real is really happening. 

Gravity, and the slides in my head through the night. I dreamt of charles last night again; it had been years since we've seen one another, and he lived in a bus or a plane where I peed on the carpet, then shrugged it off coffee spilt from the real gray cup from which I absolutely drank throughout the short night... here there was also a tiny espresso machine... and he familiar height & body of years and years and years. I kissed myself upon waking.

remember then that subtle sentiment

song of yesteryear: 2008, 8 september (and yet ever pertinent, when will not it be)

Remember then that subtle shudder feeling. I felt it and after still. The night to the country, raining my height take things from my hands. subtle destroyer of things, in the light he ruined so sweet like constant compote to be spread but unnecessary. do but float? beautiful natural surroundings healthy, and to eat and plant of the earth, and to walk of it and breathe it and sleep and love on it. mentally acute. excuse the length of recovery natural, but desperate, too; so romantic of the same, to eat the same sleep the same sleeps, shower & dress & everythought shared, and adventures never alone. books you like, or literature, or poems, scientific & spiritually intelligent. indoors, and I will refuse to stay indoors. never to speak of love or death indoors. invigorating in the ways of the physical: off on a bicycle, to traipse through forest & desert & wild soft voice in my ear! Chile & Argentina. in the southern hemisphere, I feel a pull. relax on semiotics, make it truer. of the future, As autumn approaches everyone’s making turns around. adventure together With backpacks on, headed out. Outside, in tents, in mountains, lakes, streams, rivers. In snow, in fields, beneath the sun. all the laughing And the sentiment.