I can see. I can see. Can you?
The destroying angel, cumming. Cumming.
Cumming. Landing. Do you know the breadth?
How far the wings reach when wind licks the tails
of their edges? I want to show you. I want!
Duck under and get. Frosty. Believe.
At their edges, a tongue lick.
What are you afraid of? Nose to stone.
Sweat beaded nose to smooth stone.
Lips parted. Buds and minuscule hills of tongue
along the crest of your pink hilltop. Dew
& humidity breathed along the grass.
Cotton bison near your
Tracing plate armor. Around the compound
mice dance and play.
The angel winds. Shift to kiss.
A proper remembrance. Right and good.
Do you
compound fractures
never had it this good
where you shit
mathematical modeling engines for
kissing your toes
to speak to satellites
computer aided design for what
no one knows.
You are not permitted to leave.
original works of parts
Smoker 47
I still remember
talking to you and sly.
Attempting to light
myself on fire.
One dread going up
like cartoon dynamite.
While you talked
about flying lessons.
Erica. So far. So privileged.
Lighting yours
On the tip of my dread
before telling me
I was on fire.
talking to you and sly.
Attempting to light
myself on fire.
One dread going up
like cartoon dynamite.
While you talked
about flying lessons.
Erica. So far. So privileged.
Lighting yours
On the tip of my dread
before telling me
I was on fire.
Hydrostatic Pressure
The word for
continuous
wicked moisture
through cinder
blocked.
The gloves
soaked in mineral spirits
have not dried.
Asphalt rubberized past
sticks to them.
Jeans too.
Told a self to keep it clean.
Tee shirt is already grease blacked.
The kind of mud that does not wash.
Does not wink and sigh
inside a dryer.
Cannot be music-ed away or
pixie dusted.
Fire the shopping bag
fuming mad
along route 8.
Shuttle the plastic beneath the seat,
beside the hatchet,
kissing distance from
a road yacht,
rust ready to jump fenders
arc spark stylie.
Hate trickles in,
200 pounds per square inch
along the foundation side
like a cat claw multiplying force
tip to bone.
One molecule
traveling at
with his mates
traveling the same
muzzle velocity.
Remember falling asleep
in Physics for Humanities and
less stress?
Water does not either.
The stink of lingering asphalt
coats everything tried on
to begin the day. Teeth brushed
brings black along the silk road.
Know the only way.
Make skin match,
stink the same.
continuous
wicked moisture
through cinder
blocked.
The gloves
soaked in mineral spirits
have not dried.
Asphalt rubberized past
sticks to them.
Jeans too.
Told a self to keep it clean.
Tee shirt is already grease blacked.
The kind of mud that does not wash.
Does not wink and sigh
inside a dryer.
Cannot be music-ed away or
pixie dusted.
Fire the shopping bag
fuming mad
along route 8.
Shuttle the plastic beneath the seat,
beside the hatchet,
kissing distance from
a road yacht,
rust ready to jump fenders
arc spark stylie.
Hate trickles in,
200 pounds per square inch
along the foundation side
like a cat claw multiplying force
tip to bone.
One molecule
traveling at
with his mates
traveling the same
muzzle velocity.
Remember falling asleep
in Physics for Humanities and
less stress?
Water does not either.
The stink of lingering asphalt
coats everything tried on
to begin the day. Teeth brushed
brings black along the silk road.
Know the only way.
Make skin match,
stink the same.
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