things we think of alone

in the stars & bars, the neon bikini
wet from river,
it sucked me in
this is how drunks drown
the water black linesnaking across
I wouldn't have fallen in there in daytime, too dangerous
wet home, always the sprinklers on the greenbelt between 3 & 4 am
things we think about alone
the dry eyes, the good goodbyes
the dreams I have about masturbating
always a mother or stepmother figure to embarrass myself in front of
the geminates: double rs, double ss
the ending of sentences with prepositions
I'll let you sleep all day, I'll tiptoe about you
find you coffee
watch your skin on the butter sheets, your shorts of a dusty salmon pink shirt
long pretties
I get jealous when I overhear things sometimes
but alone on a bike in the dark, feeling cold, wet, driving fast to beat it
coming alone in the heat, it's nice like winterblanket
it makes a sigh smile across me.
thinking of your leaving, of my staying put
I'm putting out even in sleep.
get in me
you did, once, many
I'm alright with that now
so I think it
so I build it true.
now

solonge

my last night at gayulz. hooooowwww do i put this. i don't know, i'm just a man. if anyone tries to get me to do aaanything before noon, i am such a sucker. i am writing a goodbye poem. i have full sentences now

okay, i don't

i am a liar

i haven't told you guys i'm a liar

which isn't even true, i'm just trying

to be a man in this world

when am i gonna fall in love again?

i don't know, what

are you doing

later?

okay, i do

i know what to say in a goodbye

dear... what even are you? i've moved in & out from you

3 times

i've never moved into & outof something like that

it's okay that i never want to see you again

that the last thing i want to see

before i leave is the worst part of you

the dank scary underground

with the stupid song 

the darkness

the place i kicked someone over

and would scrape someone off

the scary underground

that was my underground rumble

i am ready to destroy that shit

there's no paper in the world

strong enough to clean 

me

I'mportant

I threw a mango in the bushes

I threw the ball for the dog a couple of times

do any of your sentences not have I in them? 

matty said that the other day when I was wearing those skates

I was talking about the cabin getting torn down

I was wearing those socal shades, they broke the next day I think?

I said fuck off, I think

I went around to the side of the house and sat down and started crying

I had friends pulling up from different cars, 

I stopped crying, but my shades were off

I told them about the cabin

for some reason, I apologized for crying

I got hugged

I laid next to matty later on the beach

he & I looked up at the sky

like we were on a dock

like we were 

and I were

I

I

I

I

alone in a room of people

a dream in which

i had to pull you down by your beard to kiss you

i'm on my toes gasping for kissing

and your mouth is dry like sand tongue

and i scream inside, so i know i'll wake myself up

but i wake up in a small theater

and there's this avantegarde comedy play

and i'm embarassed bc i went to sleep and woke myself with screaming

it was just rude of me

i kept trying to sit on these blanketed seats that weren't mine

and in an effort to make friends, i loaded a bowl

but the others took the bowl outside to smoke without me

i dreamed there was this new interactive blog

like cutlass but with cartoon skies you could go inside of

with little animated planes lying around you

and anything could be posted

it was being updated like every 30 secs

i watched words & sentences fly past me

and of course i was overdoing it

i was doing it like once a minute,

it was becoming annoying for some of you

was it i who said sleeping is fun 

well maybe it is bc i just remembered the final part of my dream
there were bigcats on balconies
giant shining gray foxcats
so pretty
and on all of the balconies in this depressing town
now this is what i sleep for 

dear goodbye

I had a bunch of fevers this week, and I woke up all the time in a pool of sweat, and so there I was tearing off sweats & sweatshirts and cursing, and going to the bathroom and feeling my hairline dripping down me and my neck in all its wettest glory. And I had to move to the other side of the bed so's not to sleep in my pool, on your side is how I called it. but then I woke up today, and I washed what I'd referred to as your pillowcase, and I changed the sheets so the color wasn't even the same, and I moved the lamp to the opposite side, and I vacuumed up your hairs, and the edges of a condom wrapper (how the vacuum shouted then!) and I cursed more, and then I screamed at a tiny yellow spider, for even though I don't fear them they still make me startle in girlish outbursts always. all of the bits of sentences, though, I save for you for "one day" inside a pink envelope. because though I sucked all remnants of you up in that stupid plastic machine, still you remain or at least I can't have you not a little, for now. for now

a perfect definition of drinking the cold cup

I am easy, too. It is true. And the warning, or the discouragement from ease, from a friend or two... they would say a worry which is meant to cling me to an ideal aloof. I am sitting here now; it's officially november because we can all tell... it's the still skeletal yard trees, the weird quiet in the morning, the unlikely solid overcast, thorough, final. Some near-winter punctuation. The dregs of sentimentality. It's a new frost! from the stranger cat, a white paw pressd to my leg, his one eye is green, his one eye is blue. The arm hug of claws.

Am I the only fearless one? is it impossible to be the only fearless one. When I charge with ebullience: fear is the killer; and I charge again, burbling, gushing, effluvial: communication serenade it all about... and to never, ever use love in your sentences.

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.

just now and true

And oh so real! It is foggy out but this reflects not on me. The tunings of guitars and I can form sentences to-day. To-morrow in the world to be out. Something like a cloud floats through the rooms, from the strummings of boy to boy. To see I sit and wait, and the breath comes in my lungs with occasional clarity, bouts of unnoticed breathings. Orange juegos but not in fruits but colores. Reminds of life in the pits of sic-beds. The water turned on morningtimes, whence a forward is looked to and I languish in a pretty near-end of the soft and subtlelest January yet.

head over heels / sunburst and snowblind

Happiness abounds. Here, on display, a few pertinents from CONJUNCTION #7. I can't commit to its entirety. Just some lines running through my head at this moment. Sent off some in a loveletter; realizing how good I am at loveletters, how unsullied they can be through all imperfects, past or present. How good I am, and how badly I incorporate my own real life. But, no matter, sentences are worth more than given justice.

I’m so cautiously wondering if it is

about to happen for a moment

I’ve saved it for the bushes

somewhere
noticed it wonderful,

the verging of panic

It’s snowing like the grass,

(forewarning) a moment, gorgeous

Thinking a soft moist mass isn’t an exaggeration.

I try to invite plants or flour

(and a brief pause)

because it’s snowing

Then he heard a voice applied to the body.

it’s over and I know there’s no chance

in the deepest blue of relief.

Bite angrily into the darkest depths

of reality calling over.

Inflammation in despair at why even exists she.

Talk, did I think this would, and even if it did

(the exact color of sunlight foolishly),

He’d come south wearing a soft blue, tediously

interrupting in a car through the snow to be warm.

The same color of her.

Something suddenly with the likes of me.

She had high ecclesiastical sexlife; he’s got everything

else and he watched with fascination as she moved

toward prepuce.

That is supposed to fix the rest of the life?
Up there

in the world already?

She was carrying a bunch of red and orange tulips.

This lonely, lonely, so amazing.

I am clutching his fold of skin, closer to his waist.

Surrounding the person to whom you’re attracted but

who means nothing save for one hand.

Clitoris is little romantic joy

This ridiculous waste of a morning.

The collector of prepuces, she’s been with someone else.

Lies are good, she smiled magic tricks

She didn’t seem recklessly extravagant.

looks at the ground

To explain yourself
I’m glad I caught you licentious

My relationship lies are pertinent tonight and
we’d like

dissolution.

Vigorously do I know you a little bit more

an inclination I don’t have…

sometimes these ideas linger, eyes sparkle like

that natural tendency to fall asleep awhile

before underwater emeralds.

In a particular way she doesn’t touch me again,

and then over to catching the sunlight, encouraging,

looking down quietly and childish.

Couldn’t stand there, excessive interest with great sadness.

I do not know for much longer.

Sexual matters I find, something else but I remember him tonight…

salacious, obsessed, concentrating on forcing a smile.

Licentious, she kisses me closely blood
pumping lascivious

my mouth intently hot. She was lecherous and leaves, but then

I accidentally admire tulips
to her chest,

lustful and quickly allowed.

Flames on concupiscent tears,
night on the silken pink.

Trivial perfumes… a tangle of mindthorns.

But we can hear each other inside.

The discharging of love breathing around courage;

timid.

Aching in panic instant inside now.

A square with pain warm from it… tonight/ feeling

I'd want not to.

Across the lawn from loss

a circle in love with sleep

bounded by a curve

feels not Mediocre

the position of the moon
happens to days and moments

and months effective.

Being in a state perfect elsewhere. I’m the only one

who feels the urge.

I’d want to keep it still inactive

so I’m silent, reticent, judging for a reaction,

caught up in the romance of happy and alone.

Wanting to be impassive as always

and the pursuit of unreachable goals with certainty

I know obsession, foolishly impractical happy

a year or more goes by

I’m not obsessed with the pursuit of ideals, looking

at other things.

If I was obsessed capricious,

the philosophers I love

would have impulsive suicides.

I don’t celebrate quiet

Unpredictable is left for today when his eyes, in which

words and his closeness and hands are represented,

flood love.

All that, all over, combinations of pictures I don’t want.

I don’t care if he was, for instance, to suck me dry.

Care about eyes represented by a picture.

So I can suck it dry, for him. If he cares, I know.

A person to whose name it punningly alludes,

suck someone else dry.

a person with parasites (I could).

I was never so revealing.

Anything to say…

I have a strong memory.

I think treating sexual, killing time.

Living in regret and distaste,

willing to give indecent.

A chance display      you in a bed becoming enraptured

Gasp the life out of everything.

He put his arms around enjoyment of the subject,

and you remember sex

and you remember regret.

The red glow of the slow.

Stately, enraptured by a display touched.

Such a dance, and you find yourself logically.

Screamed worldly things

and imagining it’s nothing in those things which are

not regarded as the moon,

and the grass means nothing.

You will be on her side; sacred could

have never meant less.

Such a drastic change of the temporal.

Let’s not try to transcend.

(Out of respect

to the distant temporalities.)