you in your mouthi am curious about youof course, i'd liketo know how many sugarsif any, i think i'd liketo know how welldone. but i'm not sureof course, if i should becurious (or otherwise)if it is indecentof me to speculateponder how much milkwonder what texturesyou favourin yourmouthmaybe i should waitfor the situationto present itselfrather than spendthese days thinkingaboutit
act i into(beauty)obscured into a bluri become fluid with the silentmotion of the linesmy eyes are a continuing momentalong the spectrum of heardseen tasted felt(smelt)--this is the wonder of is--i miss the genesisthe before the flood--the fluid motionof calling home the birdswith a scattering of seeds--the tips of your hairdapple bright ecstasieson your reflectionthey drip the terrorfrom your throatfloating downstream--a tracing of your skinunder my skin printinjects memory into my fingersand solidifies in silence--it was raining when-it was raining when-it was raining when you held your parasol highand laughed at the sunit was bright light then-it was bright light then-it was bright light then when your umbrella onpulled laughter from the bus--ionlyneverasked--aclosedfist isaboxis aheart(a he is art)--my condolences for yourindecision--wake up, wake upit isn't morningbut for the tumblefor the tumblei give you warmthand twi
is this how it is to fly?the sleepy storm of your aeroplane fingershurricaning gentle rushes along the tips of my ear flesh--no, i did not say stopas a child in your arms, I wish for more wishestoo few are the moments we glide beneath our eye sheetstucking our tears into slippery sleepwhen does wait turn into savour?jester flowers dance jangly yellow beneath my feet and i feelthe gentle grumble of the wind's distaste through my ear pipesalong my jaw; my straining necka furore of bent elbows and outstretched arms tasting cloud whisperson my cheeks, on my lips, and my hair no longer obeys the lawof gravityis this how it is to fly? arms wicked propellers and spinningturning running sideways centripetal;my centre? is where, is where?i am your el(e)-o-c(tro)utionyou are my hard starboard.everyone was once a smaller face to cry
Of what a kiss should be.Today, today I felt as if I would break. In a gentle way. With the pain of some kind of realisation. Or theory. Or delusion, fitting to such strange situations. Perhaps not strange at all—same? The acidic grind of the same wheels turning the same cogs the same outcome, the same clock striking time to sleep.I don't think it's up to thinking about what I should have dones, how I could've changed things. What you could of… it's only blame. And regardless of the supposed weight lifted off of one, it never takes away the negation of the entire experience.Why do we say we feel hollow when we can still feel? Sometimes it's only an overload of emotion. Not a lack there of. I think it's feeling paper thin. Part of, but apart, like tissue wrapping paper, translucent; like cellophane and just as gaudy. Made to be thrown away.I think it was craft. I think it was a dress being crocheted, filling up with time, sleeves, neckline, bust, waist, hem… and then the unraveling, until all it was, was eno
is whenI do suppose the end is when I say I love you.I do suppose the end is when I say I love youI do suppose the end is when I loveI do suppose the end is loveI do suppose the end is when I say II do suppose the end is when you
-or no-\maybe you regret things almost instantly afterward,maybe even before\maybe you want to be able to regretbecause in the end you still did, and you still know\maybe it's a yes.nothing's real to me. things just arei think i remember basic rules of how the world workshow things govern themselves in numbersfunctionsactionsa set of ways to besometimes i forgetcompletely forget what is the normand i'm left completely in awe of myselfwhen i forget what it is i have to do, or saywhen a phone is ringing.
hold me tightssometimes i think im going to break. collide with splinters and be a part of oblivionparticles of energy renewing into anotheri think it could be beautifulbreaking apart in shafts of light like a covered cave, floor and ceiling fingers cracking to view the world for once in a long stand still momentlost in an isolation of time
Lip textures on lip feathersi begin to lecture, as i do;instruct the moon on how to shine,the breeze to be, to breathethe innocence of a smile to curl.in the right spotlight.the perfect wind speed, velocitygravity pulling up through our feeterrant sense of middlesthis kiss.and we--we all fall down.
recognition. andwhere is that ineffable? that calm calm calm me down.that glimmer of shared recognition. and that macabre humourI was away. I was away five years eleven minutes seven seconds; weeks I can't remember, days that are too painful.dialling, cancelling, dialling, cancelling.when was a memory a moment?i call you out, and wrap myself around you as your armouroffer my own as your new skinweakness is a flavourstrainedon bitten tonguesbut just so i know.and all the alleyways, and all the skyscraper trees and glass panel leavesblinking on and off the shimmer of caught fish in the moonlightor something about blankets on grassstreetlight flowers in bloomsomething organic, and a laugh.we'll still be chasing that morning, cars cuddled close,and the beating.a moment becoming my forgetful memory.
i am made of glasshold meup to the lightand you will find hersmudged around my heart--a tangled interstate offingerprintswith no exits.
Another Road Songfor ashFor a given value of love, thisis your song – Let's run away. I have bags, a ticket, sex on my tongue, 8 new ways to say I don't mind I can't ever go home.I don't mind, for a given valueof love, I can't ever go home. Let's walk on the sun. Heard a song once, said it can be done and I don't trust those stoners but I'd walk across coals for God, God makes the sun flowers, sofor a given value of hot,I'd say you're the one. You're the
A Dreamer BlessingMama, I met a dreamer.All the glass I'd broken, I thoughtdreamers shy from edges. But in betweenthe cracks - it's in between the crackswhere you break your mother's backfor how she let you becomesuch a dreamer - in betweenthe cracks I found someone, Mama,who won't shy from ledgesyetI hear the heart grows callused.You wear it on your palm and heaveagainst the ground, you and your novelways to fly. So what comes from youhas passport, but what goes in breaks skin -guerrila love, no trust,ash to dust, blood lust,and exilein which to recoverfromlet's never go home.Let's never go home.This dance lives in the aether,let's breathe what we can'tswallow, let's swim when wecan't fly - let's spin ourselveswhat casing God allowsfor now, and try not to break.Let's promise to leaveeach otherwhen we can't stand.Mama, I met a dreamer.I glued up all the glass and builtthese ledges. But I have no wings to fly.
My ResistanceΣτην ανηφόρα προς το όμορφο θανάτωματο χώμα έλαμπε σα νεογέννητο ηλίου.Φυτείες γαλήνης απλώνονταν σε κύκλουςπου τις εργάζονταν - αόρατες στ' α
ShadowsongΕίχα πολύ καιρό να σε δω.Κι εκεί που νόμιζα ότι σε είχα πια ξεχάσει, να 'σαι.Παλλόμενος κι ηλεκτρικός, όπως σε θυμόμουν.Κι εγώ να γίνομαι απλή, αέρινη και λίγο αυστηρήόπως μ' αγάπησες - κι όπως με μίσησ
One-Poet Stand Των Γυναικών ΕπιδερμίδαΣτη φυλακή των απολιθωμένων μου παθώνκολλάω αυτί στον σάρκινο τον τοίχοκι αφουγκράζομαι το βόμβομυστικοπαθών ψιθύρωνΔέε
PromiseΥπόσχεσηΣιώπησε στις τελευταίες πράξεις,σιώπησε.Σιώπησαν δικαστές.Θεοί.Σιώπησε το φωςπ' αγκάλιαζε χορδέςκαι νύχτες.Κούκλες.(να τελικά που οι ευχές δε σμίγουνκαι οι φωτιέςγια δεύτερη φ
OppositionΑντίλογος Ήταν τις νύχτες όταν άκουγες του φόβους να μαζεύονται στην πίσω αυλή. Κοιτώντας κρυφά πίσω απ τις λευκές κουρτίνες, τους έβλεπες να γλιστρούν πίσω από τα σταθμευμένα αυτοκίνητα, να
it isn't really autumnwe taught our graceto fly, and it taughtus to staytethered to our dreamsin a frightful waylike leaves do to branches