New Poems (Part 1)

Easter wrought

She’s not a fucking star

Too close for bottled snuff

Trans Norse, did she?...

Was she?...

Spectacular?

Who said she couldn’t fall

I love you.

I’m in love with you.

Nothing like it

U should try it

The hobgoblin sets the target up

And more, absolute

More abounding

I’m in love with you.

I was at last that

Ducts of consciousness plowed open

Rites of horn, Plenty Of Plenty

Ditched away

I am not in love with you, tragic flask

And if you

See one enthroned of two

You’ll stop

It drove you through the night

Nothing happened, except blindness

Scourge of 1,000 cellars

Wake up chained

You’re a website now

I’m in love with you.

Awe is the catch of the day.

Tunnels to the cellar

Gross contusions

An everyness of pale tinctures

Orbsnout, gallows

Each cellar is an eyeball on the cusp of J.

I don’t know what to do

I think there’s something in the thing

I think there’s thinging in the some

Let it go

I’m in love with you.

Drop eyes cellars pink with despoiled tusk

Aryan nazi death blood pink

I am underground, but wouldn’t it be nice?

You woman, you website

Splash me

Nothing comma nothing comma nothing comma nothing  

We’re engaged!

Loop the tape

I am air

Boulder, three knots

Ramshackle

I like that word, Ramshackle

I need to get you a wedding gift

How about spies for your womb?

Run and jump

Water=wet

Loop the tape

It’s Porno Pete

Satisfied, your breadth in cum

U kept a secret

Files claiming my words as

Stolen plastic

Onslaught and pine

She isn’t working there anymore

I’m in love with you.

Like a thing thinging ahead

Things thinking comma relics of horn

This should not

Bracing the crossed

Till they met

Scores of pine

I’m

I am

I’m in

I am

I’m on

I am not

I am

Glass of options

A mistake of tonal anthropology

Like a…thing

Thing much?

The everything devastates

Sickly ripples hiving for dance

Aj

Across the static a warmth was forged.

Two people in sink.

Bunnies and August roosted and stayed

Despite never dueling forms they twice decided.

Something that works is fragile.

Never trampled the magic is gem-like, severe in accepted glowing.

Can words be wielded?

Can the video compensate for one day maybe being that lost brightness too?

Shows them in others, the words their imperfections

Write it down and watch the bodies gouged.

Prisms of identity, connection seeping through

Smile strobe-like, lob it back and create   

Privacy undone and humor noctilucent.

Photos beamed and lives unduly fondled.

Boredom thrashed and cages opened with no key.

A universe bending upon the magus of a chance.

Friendship

That naked star humming unknown music

That transmission like home

That voice smeared with electric protein

Saying words

Saving time

Saying grace

Saying, “Thanks.”   

GIRL.COM

1.

Nude girl in a cage

Color of the moon’s knuckle

A push and she’ll swing

Hanging by a farmhouse in the marsh desert

Bound and wrought by his industrial heart

They met online. She responded

To an ad he placed looking for girls.

It was professional disrobing. She

Would get paid for herself.

Faux sadism elevates nudity to a standard

Of ignored mystery about one’s own body,

Air licking skin, don’t guess anymore.

Let her hang.

2.

My friend AJ saw the photograph

And posted it on her Tumblr.

There are pictures there of naked women

Kissing and there are pictures from horror

Movies and violent pornography.

There is one GIF of a woman's cum-seared face

And she's saying "I don't know what's left of me

But you can fuck it if you want."

I promised her I would write a poem

About the woman in the cage hoisted up

Beside the barn. I would grant her

A name, past, walk backwards with her

Through fate. Now I’m writing that

Poem and I’ve failed because I’m not

Writing about the girl in the swing but

About AJ's Tumblr which turns

Me on sometimes.   

For “K.”

Shape-shifting hair

Are you beautiful?

Drenched in something

That called me

Groping in word

Towards furnace Blue

And this Crimson beyond knowledge 

And not knowing was my undoing,

Until it was too late

And now when I see you I see vertigo 

Did you lie?

Or could our never being together actually not be.

I witness you in pictures and wonder how

I could have denied wanting you

For as long as I did.

A splash of face in night’s vehicle

Was my straw

The motto of that school should be:
“Preening people who will never become yours!”

I want to read to you until you fall asleep.

My words are your placenta, he self-pariodically said.

Would being intimate with you be broken buttons or heaven?