Gold and Blue

1. You'd be surprised
2. the guided precision in the print of my body so blue.
3. Such surety on my low shoulder
4. hanging and I shake
5. the fruition I thought
6. at last a seed I've grown to satisfy all the blue
7. between my gold cartesian I can lose you in

1. These pillars may produce the wildest fruit
2. despite such similar skins.
3. I invite you to a feast
4. where no grain was needed
5. only muscles eyes and mind
6. you've tasted this before
7. I understand
8. one does well to be sure this was unlike anything else
9. we've burned through before

1. My love
2. could never shade
3. but if it did
4. consult our temple above
5. for what better ear than this coolness
6. could bring you to tomorrow
7. handing all our seeds
8. to my sister in the wind
9. seal our stars
10. come back
11. then reel again
12. so get lonely
13. possibility is lonely too

I Haven't Been To Tokyo

I haven't been to Tokyo
I haven't felt the sun
I haven't released nostalgia
I have reasons not to run
but I learned to hold my shirt
I still watch you shiver
all the while
to ready the losing

I can fathom all the distance
I fathom all the time
I haven't been more selective
I haven't devotion so sure
They will come here
Or they will go long
but my eyes are
an azimuth
I could only called clear

Diphyodontics: Methods in Springtime

This is a place I have been before. This is scenery I have known. I grew up with the smell of the smell of what has yet to reach full germination. I was birthed into a cyclone, you see. Not the ordinary fox to slip between the sheets in springtime of another ordinary year. The year to follow the ice like ice we've never seen.

A new animal conceived, they with formative teeth waiting.

The flushing of a heart is the hardest thing to swallow.

finally understand for a woman it ain't easy to try to raise a man

Seller's

Today I was offered a cigarette.
The same brand my estranged father smoked.
He doesn’t accept or speak to me,
but I did.

I said I will let you keep running,
let you burn through until
I say I’ve had enough
is to say at last
to unhinging doors on a shrine,
setting the trophy to weather
it’s way through futures.

Until then, I replace you
with a silhouette of history
to rust as the ironmark reminder
in turnstyles, taking root.

You are the parable,
the cross or the hill,
yesterdays mild improvement
today; groomed, admired and lost,
a sentence I no longer expect to punish into ending
as what I want
has yet to sell.

Standing the Mast, Rocking the Boat, Being Hormonal

I reorganized my desk today. A few things have changed. Due to their lack of use, lube and condoms are now located in a filing cabinet behind the taxes, adjacent to old bills, police reports and anything else that I have no connection with. Should I seek their wonders through the clouds of dust from both, I’ll be pleasantly surprised by neither. Filing away my sexuality for the sake of success. Ah, look at me go. I set aside any photo reminding me of what I need to be reminded of. What might leave me soon, what just arrived, that has yet to arrive. I’ve disposed of the broken phones, whatever it was that propelling behind their various stages of demise and my desire to hang onto their keys. (whatcouldevercompelme. to go there) My clock is off my desk and at my bedside so that I merely have to split my sockets to continue the countdown.

I gave up my seat on the bus today. It wasn’t for you. But it could have been. Particularly if you were wearing heels. Irreverent , I stood, like a fish clocking 80 wetland bound. I will stare you into the distance of the bass-ridden goodbye as you should have put it together by now. Braeek.

Move Me Last

I’m pretty sure the guy in the room next to me slept with his waitress earlier this morning somewhere in whatever a Boudreaux looks like. I glanced through your blog today and got vain. At that moment a hair fell from my head reminding me not to. give a. fuck.

I have scraped the scorpion from the urn where my concession flows and silence bends you dangling in my cartesian as the one I should let get away. But I didn't.

I am neither nice, nor easy.
For some flame
I will be neither here nor there.
as I have come
to praise the woman
who can raise this man from
his grief of home with
the spirits of my bedside
fog inseparable from specter.

My first girlfriend is now engaged.
My best friend is now engaged.
I celebrate
pouring future games
into soil
composting potential
memory.
To new lives.

For the first time
in two years
I prayed.
--For you.
but for the benefit of me
never lead again.

I will be there in due time.

When I met you I did not stop to fathom the missing. I did not drink the dregs of the drink I would never order. I stopped myself from memorizing your eye color and from guessing your mother’s features from your father’s. I started the systematic erasure of anything that could potentially be everything.

Rock me, hard place

-49 Opposition Venus - Uranus

Negative aspect: A meeting that could be passing and highly disappointing in the end. The attraction is strong, but there is something inconstant in this partnership. It may be that the feelings run hot and cold, or that circumstances are such that their romantic feelings for one another are interrupted often.

Tonight I designed the final window locks for which to seal the year with you as the last one. The last one.

For now,

Jeffery

Matador Waving

You kept reminding me
of the rug that was counting
moons before you are pulled from beneath me,
through a trapdoor masking the fissures of lostlove
sympathetic smiling eyes
just as inevitably as 2 precedes 4.

From the moment we struck
I have always
tried to be the best man
in the race for dreams flagged and dispossessed,
fleeting against
naturally failing
competing flames that learned to
follow learned to scald me running to the bridges
we have laid between those charcoaled hours
of two and four.

But I was the one
with sweaty sheets.
still damp with snow and anxiousness
inside the wool stockings I had sewn the winter I
became unsure of the
apparition who began faceless
to slip between

the craning ceremonial folds of my heart
so easy as tonight burns today
light awakening me to traces of
what I will come to know
as half-succubus or something else profiling Roman divinity

I have grown unsure of intention and less sure
of my need to look anywhere but
into the eyes of the bull reflecting
a matador waving
my heart
worth it’s weight in silk
relying purely on a hunch to raise the cautious fire
before the oncoming could extinguish
the memory of the red lit
smoke rising from shredded tobacco
or finger hair or joined skin or desire
to tame something wild
that has yet to have been tamed

wax/wane

Nicotine in the morning makes me swagger and sway to the wax and wane in the heartbeat of the indigo skyline, because I am unsure of what we made in the nights before you were so convincing to me that after the same seasons in a row, you were not the same but now I know you will always be; a shadow I chased.

wishers

1.
Here
I am sheltered
by the ones who knew
the land before
the ones who came to
claim the land from the free
state where we are saved by
possibility of being one of the
failing heart wishers on the
ends of a pulley bone.

So here is a spell
to lay between us
to never be
on knees
confessing
just to fill a

void-

through this

.

we move

to meet center,

as animals
staring with eyes set
upon
there

2.
we'll wait out
to watch the conflicted
run bankrupt

Transoms/Terrors/Mirrors

I hung the mirror on the wall not caring for alignment because like everything else in this house is temporary. And at the end of it all, I find me becoming more quick in deciding which shoes to keep, which to let fall where they do. The spider that built its web near my bed has been given amnesty with lockjaw amongst the other webs of confrontations and concessions. The spider is not a threat, but a benefactor. I’ve seen it so in the mirror while I sleep.

Esperanza

Although I may never understand this instinct
that keeps me out of those eyes
I was breathing intuitive religion of an Arabian horse
galloping all vague, big breath
and focusless eyes
stranger figure still in the wind, totemic
hurrying past these frozen tombs of lovelost
but tonight
I will stop
I will settle for the
gaping truth for the
crop circles I drew
in the blonde ashes from the tombs
in your hair while you slept

Hermoso niño: Esto está acerca de usted

1. Last year
you said
"I can't stand
Winter,
Goodbye"

2. and boarded your plane for the sun
that's right you try to find your way back
but in your absence, I burned away
all the snow until alone I stood
with all my scattered pieces, whole

3. The hand-knit of so far so short
threadings of you and I

now that somewhere
in the stars there,

favors hang and I

am unconscious to myself,

unconscious to the him-of-him
only conscious to what
has yet to unravel
from me

4. Nightblind, we peer, survey the azimuth for spectres of love with more watch than widows counting stitches with their hands while the waves are lapping seaside in their eyes wide-open.

But for us, we are newsboys, in bars, on street-corners, headlining frustrations while slobbering over bar glass. For you, there is always someone to dole out devotion. Lick your fingers, regroup and rechoose your resources all before the sun can wash the shore to reveal what the waves have already made clear: they could never leave a mark on me.

The Antiphon of You: Restoration for former silences

1. I file sweaters from yesterday in the [next]morning much like I file you in my closet of bodies sketched but never spilling. In twenty hours of sleep, I awake with this heart being the last to feel plastered or flaked upon because it’s new coat is the only thing I know how to wear today.
   
   
2. My love,
   
   
3. I was
   
   
4. a wave.
   
   
5. I am not sure what I was willing to give
6. not that time or physics would even
7. let them matter in getting what I want;
8. knotted, masked & smudged by
9. what or whom I do not need.
   
   
   
   
10. This wave is
11. Still and slow and thick and
12. heading outward with no gradient
13. until they reference it with
    
14. the color, the incline and affect
15. stitched and splashed
    
16. upon axis
17. of globes
18. in academia.

Hands as Humanity: "He is non-committal right now. I'm a little bruised but vital."

1. Hands down, in my heart
   I hear
   you may never know
   that I keep a clean sink
   or that my muscles run parallel
   to my spine with the power
   to take suitcases of loneliness
   from your hands.
   
   
2. But I sincerely hope
   we are more than our
   four hours of accidental
   teenage combustion of
   drunkjoy all armed up
   in the day that all my being
   alone gave pause to listen
   for the white noise of
   the trophy soul
   I think I heard in you.
   
   
3. I am the dog
   that lies
   against the draft
   of the door into your heart
   where the framework is
   neither young nor old
   because
   in the floorboards
   your heart
   only
   beats
   true.
   
   
4. I soak these hands
   in the water
   in the minutes on your shoulders;
   they tell the secrets as
   I unpack
   from
   between
   the beat.
   
   I heard it.
   In the spaces
   between,
   the spaces we exist silently
   vespertine
   and in my astonishment
   I can hear
   I acknowledge
   I desire
   you to be adored exceptional
   in my hands
   without time.

No one belongs here more than you.

Shrine-building For Fast Goodbyes

i. I exhaled with the bubbles in the kitchen sink now obsessively, compulsively, disorderly clean. Wainscoat white, left around to remind me of antiquity. Today was the first day that I excused your battery with a finger in the doorjam of a Volvo to a seeker of a stranger who has questions. Smiled to untraceable answers unsure of how I slept last night knowing I could not rub the neck of the dog I always I knew I loved more than you.



ii. I argued between orange or blue in the kitchen, eyes in the windows open, magnetized to the smell of the rotting fall that soaked in your hair, in my bed, in the past, in the shallow sheets of the charming clay lipped kid.

The only thing I can say I feel for you is as blue as I was.
Blue as I felt the imaginary time you convinced me. The time
I dangled heirloom china
from the roof.