maudlin

bits of mullein in the light
my gentle promiss
persuasion song
hello?
it's my last time, roll a louisiana cigarette
some hickory street smoke
no
something about it
something about me liking
something about me
I'm liking me
the acoustics I'm all about
my environment, you know
my environment

I love Kyle
I love Kayla

but they won't be coming back
....................................................................
last night at 8241 Hickory St, New Orleans

in denver

little dooms
a light
pile of chirps
an element
  I need to think of
an element
a string of vowels
insects brushing against
night
when is the next full moon? is a question

old relevant

I don’t even need to kiss. But I do anyway? & I showed late to a dark lawn with a poet reading from the scrolling light of a smartfone. I was quiet, in ambience. eyecontact unwavering. And sitting next to me, introduced, and lovely because from us the conversation then readily flowed. In the grass with jars & cups of wine, like oldest friends sharing knowings all together too easy. Maybe it is easier with a boy. I haven’t met anyone like that who I’d like to just sit by and keep talking to; the girls I know in some sorts because of how easy it is for us to just be. But he it was like a lost brother of mine. Then breakfast, sleepless, and it was a depressing breakfast, in that the breakfast was depressed. Eggs in a weird isolated pile, a couple of biscuits that didn’t fit anywhere, some sad potatoes. We only go places for geriatrics. And hopefully will. It is exciting and we can’t be. We are a secret, a secret shared with bars & the heavens & some select northend streets. Our bicycle seats & our diaries. He asks me questions. No, he just listens. We can’t talk anymore about the good that feels, or the beauty of faces. I can’t think about the feeling of a hand pressed hard against a low-back, or the clench of small arms. Golden beard, Nordic eyes. But our smiles! the best, contagious. Not for those long distances and uninvolved. I got through a day of clenching my lust-carved jaws, of hiding my heartattack chest. And just the saying of the bare-minimal, just that I like it, I want to be best friends, I want to. I have blood-filled veins, after all, and a heart that shakes and pounds, and legs which want to wrap around, and a mouth that kisses with all of itself. I am not there, there, there. I am older now, smarter. I am not in love, I am in love. I am in love with every second, sometimes. Since Sunday night. I am in love with time elapsing, with an everpresent future, with the thoughts that a body feels! The movement, the passions, the lust embrace that I KNOW isn’t gone, has just been hibernating, has not been there, at all, real. It might not be he; he I like so much and feel so connected to, really, like everything is just there and so honest & obvious.

It’s 28 or never baby.

a brain is simple and tough

1 November 

Finally, isn't it better. Wondering about the chain, the delicate filigree of onehundred years ago. It is true that the brain dies, but you see, giving sustenance till the end is righteous. It will matter.

The incest of a body alone. Empty of others, the hands of legs or the wrapping in a bed together. The door from here is too far; the brain is actually dead. Just still moistly warm. I could drift away right then & there! The flickering four candles emitting their faux vanillas. My own true lavender to light me.

The lights on one, the closed windows, another. The better friend vegetarians. My cells growing, the thick of arms and shoulders. I am awake alive and it tastes hungry in me.

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.

I died

I almost died by ambulance this time, tonight it was speeding through with only lights and engine sound to warn, no music of sirens, not a thing. Seconds on time was I, to life everlasting. Disasters distracting as shapes from outwards of nowhere. Delicious departures from certain snowy landscapes (of a mind). Still fawning, breathless. Envisioning seaweedscapes, a mind full and collapsed, envelopes of dramatic dream memory sway, each little disaster eclipsing in on itself. It would have been an anniversary to end all anniversaries, inside but not to mention a full moon to end all moons full. I am so incipient, excited for my day of birth. I will see the 24th year. In all manner of ellipses. Breaths of doom lush ever ending nervesway.

˚ I D I E D ˚ I D I E D ˚ I D I E D ˚ I D I E D ˚ I D I E D ˚

---

I almost

Died by ambulance,

It was speeding

Engine sound

Day of birth

I,

Disasters

In on,

Envisioning seaweedscapes, a mind full and collapsed,

Delicious

It

Distracting ash shapes from outwards of nowhere.

Inside

Envelopes of

Departures from certain snowy.

I,

Dramatic...

I am so excited for my

Each

Dream memory sway,

Inside

Disaster

In all manner of

Eclipsing

Doom brush never

---

To, was with only from the landscapes (of a mind). Little lights and warn, no music of sirens, not a thing. Seconds on time was to life everlasting. Ellipses. Breaths of to mention a full moon

would have been an anniversary to end all anniversaries, not to end all moons full. The 24th year will see ending nervesway.

a sip of light / heroic branches, lateral

A sip to sway

something light, the mood

A slip a shine

just simply shorn, of bright

Metal off a window glittering

Shone interstices form

metallic words

Sentences like shards

for instance, of light

18 s

[ 1=2, 2=1, 3=2, 4=3, 5=0, 6= 4 {c=1}, 7=1, 8=5 {c=1}, 9=2 {c=1} ] = 18 s sounds

A heroic instrument, a tool of terrorgrip

........................

Rent for the entire brownstone is $10,000 per month – Firm. The brownstone consists of a 9 room triplex apartment and a 3.5 room garden apartment and a full basement. Total 3510 sq. ft. plus 810 sq. ft basement.

A young shoot; any sympodial inflorescence, the main shoot ending in a flower, the subsequent flowers growing on successive lateral branches. (cyme)