spice juice

give the length of a sip trying for sun,

the grass always an unnatural shade

faster and fast crawls across

this time of day, meaning, this time of today

or a similar time, but yesterday

oh accidental chives!

oh concrete cubbyhole!

  & the waving nylon slap, whoosh

oh waving onomatqxrzzzdrzzzfzxzZ (onomatopoeia) 

red, always the dull sunworn red

  on flag day

on your staggered haphazard white poles.

pour hours into your glass

heat to serve it to leave it to cool

the tops are for you, they froze for you

finger them out, thumb them loose

they move away from your touch instantly

cringe away the cold, frozen moment

but thumb them, finger-to-mouth them

make them last till 9

with its highwilling sun

and longmoving shadows

 watch melt it

gather your hair in your hands,

  sunset glimmer grass of heat

  grass of heat of head

  mow your head in the sand

   guzzle your years by your roots

     melt melt melt drink

 do,

      only finally but

events of hours hoped or wished down

pretty little, 53 to 55


The events of hours: by tomorrow I am chiaroscuro. I am whimpering, almost, with the night now and still, once again, of light and shade I'm made. I think as usual, hiding in time, an affect of silence.

Consistently a chicago coffeeshop, it’s contrasted light and moderately I attempt to hardly be here at all. Just a beautiful shadow created by furnished apartment. Choke back in the unnoticed French light falling unevenly. Preparing tears a mind never blue from two; I produce a clear cherubic direction. That adjoining abruptly, the life of me, all throwing soft light in. Seeing, difficult & dry. I’d like to wake on the table, leaving love hard and saying, knowing, thinking, goodbye at the rest of a room.

A dance around things, an epic poem, the East in chiaroscuro. To prepare then. Somehow, take me for some marked action mythology; have you found humor to recommend me? might a fire you are looking for?

Black must do to be breathing around. Velvet forms a part of female singing. I try singing it too, for me to keep most interested. The head knows all the words, I loudly need the feel. I never hoped or wished down.

a perfect spring song

and a little like it was. A shade of a tree, but not a shade on me! An invitation and I should shed things off. Something like the foot upon foot of white thick snow and the silence but for a crunch under boots. It all feels a little memory in me, hurting the heart stomach with pleasurebliss excitement. a dream real happening presence, now.

in about two minutes

I will bathe. I made list of the people I've seen, or those spoken to over the telephone.

I bathed. My hair, in similar shades. I swear I'll stop this, I know that it could be anywhere I do all this, but not for long, for weekly trips mandatory to the beach are in my future. Thursday... I have to wait, but oh what a wait then, and I...

firsts

Oh, bursts.

Here is what I have to offer tonight: swaying under the projected black sky, clouds in shades of blue spreading waywards. But this is all just a projection, and not from a projector, but just a mind. The Mind. I will also offer, a moonlit glance. Oh, I listen to neko case all of a sudden. Which reminds me of a tale I have never recalled in writing.
Summer, Ch and K, two beers two tiny bottles of transport whisky, a mountain of rocks at the Park, the park all capitalized, carlo rossi, twilight, runners in underwear, a joint, sky through trees, peeing in a rocky crevasse, neko case across the valley, holding a dog on leash. Holding hands & looking for boys, bikeriding, pool playing, winning and losing.
But now: now it is not so different, it is my room not the mountain, but if a room could be a mountain I'd like to say that this was it. Pretty woman's dress from the polo game. An adventinus.
Shades of blue... cerulean, david rudman. Put out in a snuffer. Snuffed
There were a lot of times when I picked the names for the children... but that's nearly the furthest I got... aside from physical traits by collision with those of some loved one at a point or time... ah ha, ahhhoooo creation! Congratulations.
Ferdinand
Merrill