Some of the time, or mebbe all
of the time, get tipped and think of lustful feelings with yr
favorite thing of the body
I see votes for belly & nose, maybe some feet
but really what more
In the instant we call it a love feeling of love a love poem
love poem for him for her for my wanting of this dick
in you shiet
wanna make me the scapegoat for the whole damn machine?
sheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeit
had to. but there isn't some solitary movement (from this minute
from the island watching the gulls overhead in the honey sky
wht what fishing, nigga I ain't hardly done some fishing it must've
been some years ago I had the
long pole it was my father and a buddy of his (he had no name
but he disappeared from all traces of my brain) I fishee I caught
nothing nothing yummy nothing,
that's what fishing was, no twhat
crabbing and clamming was
The soft heel skin digging the
micrometer grooves of a clam shell
and with much hesitation the boy dove
under water and grabbed blindly in the kick of
sand the hele
We call it a love poem at times.
I call it a love poem.
All I write are love poems, shit.
You living
life? Unforgiving midday? Well stocked kitchen?
His toy, his dream, his rest on fire?
shit we all read it here.
I am a roomful of the briefly stopt. The timed detonations
what disaster only approaches me at the END
what has gone to seed, a pulling of things,
too smooth in my cradled thinking. I love you you
you are not my enemy I explained that Mr Nimh, many a time fucking over
fan what critics striving together
thicken yr mind over violent money
in this suspicious world it marries yr mother
in her young years, the only memory of her
left she struck out as ah a bunny prize
Years roll away
dark brows blonde teeth
burst of street sunshine
I let my fucking dick jangle in the holy city of America
opinions around yr finger
holds no thoughts of mine
good food & rest
visions of welcome beauty
lovely
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