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I laid my head to rest
and saw my mind's dress
its prim Sunday's best
with fabric air-succulent
so very soft in its tidiness
relaxing ocean tenderness
contained as to never forget
its bowl, as also my body felt
as my muscles held all I'd meant
to sleep as the moon tempts.
If I've to attend to the morning
I'll need to see it as first weaning
for my nights are gentle and dreamy
my head sleeps and we go swimming
my darkness seeps into her night mint
when her native darkling arms take me
carrying me everywhere naïveté beats
whereto also the only fault be in rhythm
my dance breaks off and I see the mean
I see the barkeeps in their last grunting
with the DJ's spin in a different melody
today at home, it's like sounds from trees
and I've seen the rhythm also unchanging
like a stuck frame in a still playing movie
unlike the ones where she's a rapid rabbit
but now she's a client, one probably asleep
and I'm a barkeep who must remain standing.
Has arbitrary actions die
lead to this magic of nigh heights?
Please don’t leave me.
Will you miss me?
If on evenings
only need me
out of; for a lack of reason.
Love you ways I shouldn’t
pill riddles
couldn’t . . .
Wont, need you in flare of this.
In the morn
at first blush of who
mulling, it is you.
Eyes prised hum.
I say dear: I am young.
I wake by A.M tall.
I hail what may but burns.
You've unfettered my affection
in eddying rabble
cold-spring flush
of underbelly 'quaintance.
Who is to deny love?
Ever drawn in orb.
Our barycentre fortune.
All you had to do was stay.
You skitter ever always
I rock on about a book.
I'm pinned chez seven a skittle
here in need waiting for you
but I don't know what to say.
Come run me over again.
All you had to do was stay.
Wasp or bee?
Your endearing art sting
I'll enjoy
till you return to love.
Oh now bobble tortuous
how furlough.
My wit I tweet like spittle, vernacular
with your tips as like whips and pips I pick at
pretending you’ve hit at a niche of nurture.
My heights, doom at my every pantry reach claw
meddling it’s become. The loon is out the door
my nerve throbs
words shrunken sink to the sucker.
. . . I’ll remain where you find your thrall in my heart.
Carefree creole reverie
amidst arms way mummery.
I dote every scrip thought dust
as pines in merry crust.
I Hurt myself again today
won't matter. Given anyway.
Elbows and ankles same mistake.
Who'll miss me, that once clear clean bake?
My nape sates of goose pimples
pitching my eyes deep wasted
in long held-back tuft mistakes
with ire pumps beating witty
my forlorn courteousness.
I reek sore imperfection
corroding indignation
kneading flunk condescension
but it's this haughty mischief:
my every call; long harangue.
Your continuous stolid
dilution is fart unfair.
Goodnight cuddle turf
crump muffle touch.
You and I
a subtle wank off.
My flatulence
opt innocence
is tacit apparency
of my humanity.
But it is not.
I get through the day
under impression
nothing really
is going on
well
that is just you there.
It isn't awkward. No.
It'd be frosty. Stop.
If you are not all
I think of blaming ends.
My tatami time.
Break my heart
liquor it'll be all my swipes.
Whizz!
The tincture
the strong disjoint.
It is the second fall from sleep
deep it speaks life
a rile lie.
It is obvious what is going on again
I have fooled myself
wedged what was askew.
Sat in wait
in pretence of companionship.
The leaf has fallen
the twilight has faded.
You’re here.
Naked.
I see it all
you in another’s arms
my absence in the milieux of all.
I see everything
with my self now absent
I see it all
with me now absent.
Funny
how I open my eyes
to a spout of cognizance
of your splendour
its stark contrast
to the inhabitable enclave
of a mind I've got.
A creek leaked dry.
Pocket of thoughts.
Orchestrating octets
dotage montage.
Sunset. Hush
rest.
Read the text again.
Being stranded bore nothing . . .
Not with a poem!
Whistle kiss issues
your music my soul crush in
ivy pestle thuds.
If it is, isn’t
lead me on beyond end’s wait.
Mirth taste in your gait.
Clocks ticking through lines
heels missing on the right side
heaven waits here now.
Cock-a-doodle-doo.
You sprout my sombre heart bloom
with sultry tunes um . . .
In event Taylor
seat next to seat don’t warm hearts
miss only the corn.
Every shade of you
is bower
synergy of pat showery moods
soaking me up in misty bliss.
Evanescent, sensational
fraught lust seat
the posit point.
I grew old the first time.
My vocabulary suddenly grew meaning
you hitch-hiked
I love you.
Pressed on, rubbing against
misguided and fractured
I braved, heaved
asked: what? Who? How?
Messages don’t get unread?
Understanding your undertaking
a mere strike spurt wouldn’t
a tip aflame like.
It had to be its mourning
my death’s taste
in all I did;
a symbolic terrific function.
My lesser acuity.
I pillow shop in wonder lust
often stop roasting on this pause
blaming it on forceful friction
the candid illusion;
laud station
on where it started:
of pictures
removed. Distance.
A new substance in my brain.
Adjusting vitals.
The pin falls back in groove
in tape uncovered.
All that remained
unsaid
a quiet slap beneath
waves
the old scientific saying:
I don’t know the world
just what
it
the brain says it is.
Craggy exposure
of it means to relax
to perceive.
Furling.
To delve at:
spruce question of what;
foaling the creeping second hand
fearing the derby.
Now as never
It souses
framed in the hollow nest.
Pre-eminent what thought says
this morphing phase
serving its days
the turn-fetch space
sussing out the waste
wedging the motley layers.
Venture I pre-bait
the cram; its date.
Maybe
I want to weep
is it . . .
I have not one to?
Drib drips.
Flak fount.
My cranium
locked skein faff.
Afraid no swat weighs enough.
This bole raises a toll so high
vending a brash coda
before the last gulp.
She's here and I miss it.
Spritz back at my thought;
words coiffing
the alley pent-up.
If the crackling whip startles
file it a grub.
Hurt deep in naught
a pond of thumping comb
lacier.
Hapless a wrist. Weightier.
Ever written something close
fore where you stand . . .
A stab surreptitious at the spatial
nodding detritus
clouds reaching for midrib pencils
stippling scarecrow roofs
with callow shoulder lain ants
plunking avian ruts
pelting fracas ascertains:
The filters of louder creaks.
The drab of now sopped soil missed.
Snails slip like blue murder.
The ambage of guano and my wet hat.
Cows should be without eyes.
Just for that peel that riles.
I made a turn
didn’t, they went on.
Cows should be without eyes.
Heard they are deities
or used to, now busy?
Free-ranged with distend easy
well now I’m god
in my plate they’re done.
How well they end their stall?
Cows should be without eyes.
I love their hides
honest, a bit shy
all colours no wry.
Black, red or white
the total lack of floss is a great buy.
Still I get upset after every hike.
Cows should be without eyes.
I haven’t had a meal in days
so now brushing my stubble
feels like coir to dig to.
As a crotch of a construct
in here I am;
mulling
in this state
thoughts corded:
the fable of the remote.
Could it effect:
a squeegee larceny.
Baulk at this hunger . . .
squiffy fugue!
Appoggiatura parley.
Codswallop poetry.
In wait
in hope of vagary at the nub.
Tomorrow will be here.
The cremating of the old tangle
was quick.
Evaporating quickly.
Sundial wit with.
Facing walled cells off a grid
smirk doodle
purvey two soles off to work
splotch the left
ratchet in bebops
edging nifty
sewing bare
the footprint of yet.
Le nippy deux.
A fruit fought
got caught
foot high
‘fore touchdown
land line pick up.
Uno this day.
Pin rolling
to zero.
Dribble ribbons.
Ebb slink I
regarding haughty splatter
at boom thrust.
A box in a circle.
Threads . . .
cut!
Call out.
Leaping off.
Under range.
Yapping. Endless.
Leaving. Loving.
Out. With.
Pop!
Back beat
thud stamps
enlivening fusion
rev.
Hand stretched
back
in peal.
In the wind
saw I thought
laburnum dew
trill rush
into a bowl of lapping
growing muckle plug holes.
Chiaroscuro scion flecks
tamping
ferreting
Tash. Red.
I can see it.
Just the first few moments.
Can I pass away?
Empty my all in there . . .
arrive just at the number.
Say it’s me who
slept in your arms.
Say it’s off
the calf love
past the crumb etch
edge while
further the chaise.
Scarcely in anthem
heads pendant hardy.
Legs out dirty.
Outwit.
First attendance . . .
eleven bows out.
The plenum subverting.
That umlaut chin
tall courting spin
ult sati dream
dreck maiming
awe saw
bait a treat
lateral grasp of
wish bone
swizzle stick
upswing hoot
bliss corm
shiver.
Creation bangs!
In a shoot
off the viny grooved capital
darting through the air.
Temperately
up there
in the fleece sphere;
wham!
Into a baby tomato.
With so many bangs
now blue.
Its other half
sluices . . .
Stuck hewn
asks:
who gives a dowry where that went?
Caught in the fluorescence;
each icky stair
metronome
girth
of fortnight reticence
here
at the tetrakaidecagon letterbox
is no flounder.
Dredge
a stile
to outline
I
love you.
Once on the toboggan
told you:
coming back this path
you said
not to fritter
I combed
waxing:
the slush aria will guide us.
Pall our every hob you mean?
Fief . . . Fifteen.
Another fatuous blackleg.
Trams ran through that will-o-wisp rivulet.
Shoal of fish hopping through repast canisters.
The geyser chimney if you remember
was our favourite.
The only cupcake pouffe forebear scriptum
fifteen, sixteen.
In our heads;
ass epaulettes.
Why those carrel cask of wanton moxie.
Fashion me another.
Its humdrum.
Pectoral sighs . . .
chirpy husk to our gads.
Make a dime off a macadam.
Yes ma’am.
I’d always forgive.
Down the camber
remains the plop;
germinal morbid harem of thought stint.
Come.
See the abstruse mishmash filled ovipositor
accompanying dirge to tort.
Lurching
as result of swigs;
backdrop of invective mantra.
Hie this seventeen
my prolix stymied nights
only right to leave you here
queen of outed octets.
Now.
Slithery slip off that nuptial bond
sibilant of carious freedom.
Wilful neophyte furore.
My!
Outré!
The somatic fatigue.
Pixelated drab.
Briefs in vivo.
If I could rejig
pestering stripes
in its stead.
Maybe then
I won’t wear them fault always.
I want smacks
sort that ripple
through vallecula.
In public
toss out
hash knobs.
Yes!
Sequin pitons.
The quotidian ones too.
Make it to the lintel ritual.
Swan song to the pitter-patter
out the incontinent bleed duct;
the holstered gossip.
I want smacks.
Round the goal line are fingerprints
enduring finicky of left.
Beryl cloth fasten my cuirass.
Our love be kept.
Sad in the moonlight wholly wept.
Veridical. Left shut no doors.
Temptation removed, far intent.
Solace in guild my Artemis.
Roseate centrefold her mien depth.
Mine whorl. Tentedarch was that yours?
Our love be kept.
Calling for tomorrow
when reflexive
its response always is
diurnal élan.
In boudoir torpor
while horses stalk
my bride
vitrify wake
drapery clouds
flung
cold sweats
drenching me
in nonce
ansible thoughts
tine putter
blithely reverie.
Every lip gore
cru corpuscle vert
here
tardy
rueing
spangle soul
turret pennon
flies.
Corollary mischief
kiting dulcet rebuttal
hum and haw.
Playing elementary kvetch
throttling groping gewgaw
hum and haw.
Denying stopgaps
smiles down sweat sate berth thighs
hum and haw.
Flailed tricks
credence and duds
hum and haw.
Pratfalls at eight.
Never until now
seen birds tap flap
past each other.
Aims at seeing bare eaves
antecede broomed
thunderclap.
Impressions of dashing rede
conjugating no known fissure.
Blind.
Periods in marks
pasting fellow touches.
Spent time at free.
We laid the tompion.
Behind
the churning fritz
— easel eve exult —
cowling
obsidian rape.
Botulin gazump.
Pucker happiness.
I’d be a prig
a big wig
not to swing this:
flapping the brisk damper.
It’s sparks
all in place ‘cause of you.
Lit wick.
In my thought:
west.
You and I come across:
splice fiend.
Warm a cornflower carto-phase.
Truffle tom-tom gumption.
Pellucid.
Pointrel bleat suite.
Kayak enchaînement.
i.
Turn day.
Off a bit:
turf bit.
Birthday kibitz:
mind the schist bit.
Here.
A digit.
Wish!
ii.
Oh terse!
Emote, mote.
Test.
Muzak instead?
Top pet
my moppet
mitt thump.
Dent!
Quaint thaw.
Lark lore.
Porch taint.
Day to go
that’s all.
Singly hinting . . .
I bray.
Congrats on
growing the third limb
stool!
Found a shears in shamble
and wished it was a scissor handle.
Thank heavens it's candles
easy to ram fingers through.
Sheer pleasure crossing this ribbon brook.
Bratty seal tore day do. 🎉
It's a birthday!
Like yesterday . . .
A wine intrepid
sweeter.
Doodah to the aha!
Now that really isn't . . .
Brine froth in aleatory spill.
Its still:
terry loops ilk
in reflective effervescent bubbles.
I bore it a must
a fair rumply butt.
All do it for the jut
that birthday sop.
. . . dote wrote to your clop top.
We say August and it’s nineteen
with this my lungs and drums go all upbeat
for with just orders we’ve made it.
Oh auntie!
Tell me this too with a bite is heightened.
I taped a calendar for the tally-bark route was thorn streaked,
some reminder being out here is modern in every tasting.
I dote days, birthdays two ways, it is your grace this nineteen.
With chords and stop, my cup’s raised, in open fervency.
It’s nineteen and oh my auntie, it is back rich.
Days better as checks.
Patterns in row of expectancy.
Weatherboard of shaded mordent prick.
When the hanky swipes:
Phew!
Bay's a box away
in bollard
where behaviour whets my manner.
Seem.
Seam.
The yellow line
of forever
with your favourite hat
on.
Caged away a bird. Peeled.
It had perched on my sill.
Beak clack! Clack!
Clack! Clack!
Strange for a call
now out park.
Tap! At the sash.
Clack! At its glam.
It pares. Pares it seems.
Din here, din there; on seam.
In beams . . . on its shimmery plumage
I wrest him in my hands cupped siege.
Now a mirror cage
a singing page he stages.
Beak clack! Clack!
Clack! Clack!
Froze in thought.
Comprehension!
Debilitating contrast.
Touché!
Demerit.
Pertinent apace.
Au fait
flâneur on his way.
For every grime
I tried every font.
Every wash
every stone colour.
Pledged at every.
Round every.
Top of every.
Every seemed heavier.
Every was never a try.
A face for every.
I saw a movie.
Its frills weave:
love is fractal
punctum hay.
The spiel needle drop.
Relevé data crump.
The garland of Ireneo Funes.
Besotted . . .
I offered a Popsicle wick fáilte.
Frolic with feet over my head
the canon of my ken;
bare with no jock. Meshed
I broached:
you’re a skinflint at admissible emotions.
Togged up as the effusive divider.
You daintily replete my kempt
canary heart with mitzvah social blocks.
I thought:
you bovine.
Drivel!
It was just en garde.
Was it a fallow?
That drench of silence before the tweet.
I lacked the antennae
but I picked off the crate.
Who is fondling
your sepal into words?
Beguile the echo of your singing
in the transpersonal loft.
Way of a scrounge with
nourishment I feel how with the times.
An ever bis;
flare mood-tweed.
Play me
say:
dipping tutelage in freight kowtower.
Feisty iridescent pried prim nails are all I see.
Come here!
Fretfully perched though,
I fused with din.
Closer.
Acquainted.
My beady eyes dove to wash
tween the sight
freeing sound.
Applesauce. Stashed
pinned with whim
will dream.
I peered the pore
its faint fall pass.
Poured a sprawl
and hoped for a doll.
Due brain.
Fytte for a vista vertu.
She’s out with a jealous front.
To her my love
I’m a randy mate.
Never could be mine.
just ply.
Love me how I please!
Never a goad jut.
A sessile thatch
if only
a chattel visor
was my hourly avid.
I told her of you.
Your view.
How it’s ever
always few hours to morning
with you
and our greenmail plan.
A fringing reef
she says
you’ll write a poem for.
It’s great you wallow.
She doesn’t get it.
The gentle rub.
Thumb over fore
how it’s no whim.
Flowers that remind . . .
it is an anastrophe tailor scour
your pulchritude.
Mine to tease out.
Swelter hot
seeping grace of the hourglass.
She seizes the day
owning the only
penny staking romp.
It’s fine
serve me a spiked punch.
Puff the kif.
She’s my oar.
My intuition touch
the stroke.
Her curve mow truce;
thewy lip sweep
flays the quail.
My shunts.
Cripes!
I do.
Souffle in my waned flint;
vogue flown foe.
The clef mushroom with a smile.
My evermore levee.
I feel too
how we two.
Now if you
will be too.
I feel too.
Brim vim I
heap thrill ride.
I stand pat at tie
bookmark line
ampersand heights
squeaky clean bind.
Rung rung plight
patina kibosh wife
fawn lawn aisle.
My Rihanna with a blowgun
you’ve left me in stitches.
Entry. Ending.
Evenly carefree.
Three loops to eight
lending empty.
Best this poetry
come through
bubbly.
Ending entry.
These birds singing ensconce
remind me:
It’s a feat to dump tunes.
your hands label me queer;
like why
I should know where the only pressure is
been sussing the raison d'être;
fraying fronds.
I know it’s no marring
the dividend
redound to waking quell.
Humanizing trauma.
I love you.
Shaking it off
jiff wiggle.
Splaying single biped.
Prostrate angst denial.
Brushing my teeth
at time.
Kiss me in paste of this luscious dream.
Rake the pale off its medley dew.
Speak of on-page bordering touch
eschewing their smarmy daze.
A thousand seat coach of a smile.
Hoop peace.
Ship peeve
right the non sequitur weight.
Wait!
Stage a whelp rage.
Only a crèche fascia.
Wet your address book.
Barely a schuss.
So wait.
I can play whooper
if we are friends
only, toady.
It is a lackey.
He has just
frail inanity
arrived at the furore.
Pudgy
he arrives on a mare hocussed.
Nerved.
Hilt grip.
Thought there’d be pomp!
Bent.
Himself out of shape.
Au naturel floodlit;
jabot to his mare coffle.
For the rent to his regal skin
a vicissitude euphemism:
this perturbation akin to a house fly
an awn by the ear.
A brachistochrone, my mare
course.
At the threshold
with locket hands
emptying a pocket
of ocean flaws
the past unzips.
Each step
canoodle
soft like a head’s cushion
comes the kula
as sleep at night.
For the time
the rut of autumn’s raked bed-rise.
I’m here fine
where I sit right
in lye-rhyme, clipped
a pen with lines.
It’s moments
cycling through shadows;
concave throb seats
bobbin holding pangs.
Not the hurt!
Nine came in confetti
traducing the palate of my heart wine.
Quale lethargic dower clouds
bedaubed over my soma.
It’s been the bar between my I’s
my H.
Beating memento mori with a drogue.
The latch on articulo mortis.
A native pine rhythm now hackneyed.
Thrust trail of decades.
Reason it bickers different at the adytum . . .
With a chill to the feet
comes the hurt.
A track without a compatriot.
If you know of any tunnel
. . . it is opening
you can follow
for there’ll be no patch.
Your naïvety is fine;
only a blindfold.
There’s a diorama
and I also can’t tell
how much sleep
is on the natal brain.
This circadian tress
lack that theine; nous-stock
of my doyenne.
I’d beg the day tarry
avow its flub . . .
paint it all ham
for this dearth of loop.
Beg the sash
to celebrate you longer.
Lofty hung . . .
detained
in memory.
Neurons bay the sluice.
Rock. Bottom.
Gauntlet grippy
squirmy crinkle folds.
Douse.
And again.
New ones.
The bulge
and its pupil.
Pun qualms.
Damn bombs go off!
Duty one.
Staple.
I see it
mete its protest.
Simple.
Oh into.
Ample my tut-sea.
I don’t play with purse
for need of months.
Out by the corner with a dump sump
it’s forever that blunt.
Both pulse of the only hump.
When I freeze —
cusp on the pervy slab
— it’s with a feather.
An empty reason for another tender-tender.
Pet me, it’s surly suave.
Been with many enough for a curfew valve
fairly I piss camp.
Sex on my burdened platitude.
LTrundling heels clicks.
Skipping conversations.
Fettering hiccups.
Bare feet.
Pair stilts.
Couriers of the custom.
Her words . . .
when spoken
fondle you stiff;
running deviant ball-pen.
Back of the boom
is where her motion lies.
A slap. A clap pat
plus she parts the lap.
If the night is young
she leaves without a ruffle, no ache bet.
Her ranks lay the snorkel
of wad kingdom cum.
I hate the drive-through
now the traversing side;
a cable
unchastened spirit in a flatbed.
All I do is pick and dump
more on the morose when it’s onerous . . .
I’ll leave the curtains that way
the white light represents . . .
Another unnecessary accustomed waste tense.
I love the placid.
A minimal
routine accede.
Cancelling.
Daintily
I took a sip
taping faint cloves.
Scintilla finagle seizing hisses;
kisses pitting
stymie edge turns.
Neat aural black hem;
the plummy drone.
Grapy sores
even in this cuff.
Crayon bomb!
Stick!
Doting French roll bun.
Don’t leave me
for other.
Else.
How many crouched
by that highway kerb?
This time
unlike every
one
torpor
nigher, in consternation.
No wiles . . .
Don’t ever leave here.
O, to run.
No use!
Always
it is.
The spurt pant further now.
Am I still here?
Does it matter
where?
In a gnomic house
some duppy weaved
tussle teem tear.
Ink wage.
Drench page.
Down joist.
All . . .
creaky mewling poise.
Crisply hover . . .
her crumpet
dryly smuttiness
tabi gourmet.
. . . feral tact panache
chicanery demotic doors
daunting privy belie quaich.
Regal um, dash
accosting geld sprezzatura.
Bosh coitus
cum gosh!
True rivet:
crush balls
tit tart.
Cloche.
Some clay
will do
in place
for hue.
Splat!
Clipped digits.
Hue tunic of clam juice.
Imagine.
The drag
its facing side;
pointing.
Spittle enzymes
to meeting you faster.
Closest;
heart line.
First sound in sea,
whirl story of spoke.
Tried leaving with it
but how
with these numina resplendent smudges.
Tattle triage quiver
bathing interstice babel . . .
Cinched hand!
. . . crying belfry.
Taut towel.
Filch.
Which?
The dreg under rock.
Birth: flicker.
Absolved in the sweet bar beth;
could be tonight.
Most mornings, it’s prawn I’ve got in my mouth
rating 'very younker’s yawn: budding lout.
I take a brush, prop the top
and wait for that big rod rout.
Always with the bout but that's out.
This morning I made a round; south.
A gain for her. A game I need it'd stop.
Out by the door, I taste it: last night's gout.
Where in the continuum
will pretence
level this long ill-hale?
Gut the dimorphism
through the lateral ends . . .
A limning gravitas question.
Could win back Quebec
my madame.
I’ve been sick out of this love for you.
Pair of jigs; lost to green so true.
These cats all too drew. Those two.
Meet me down the drain-surf for enough foo
drowning a swain so blue.
The inane pointlessness. Together. One loose. ❤
i.
Four louvres at mine; its only side
with a door as the child squiggly lines
I was apt to draw hang pretty fine.
No baggage, just bad aches lending hard times.
Orange citrus hue in a burst long due cry
shoving mutely the shoehorning feeling outside.
ii.
In. It’s green walling off its best previous life.
Dated use wire off the hook, every no fan night.
A bed, stove, with a mat up my hind.
The two polar reposed doors tittering: we’d be post he and I
weekday or fly. Shopkeepers; sundry visile.
I dredge with stubbly bristle fingers quaking tiny craters stopping tiles
with flies roaming: reasons for a door open wide.
iii.
Nefandous shards bud scuttlebutt rife
lettering broad on bold stink stiles
snuffing that puerile roof gable drawing out mind
in plumes through doorway median of wish and live.
A dream of a triangle’s deck fenestra — playing wind —
alive on the ground — ragbag testy lees of fluviatile lies —
by dunnage ere dogie, buckling by wild anger bind.
Its ripple ambience ends in snafu, abrasive ulalgia. Save smiles.
iv.
Leaves bode-effaced. A child’s mindless stable vice.
Every ball-tip crawl scrim: screams of letters B-O-D-E. Fried
like a glowing déjà vu peculiar sound. A name. The wish-meet ends its hide.
A new flow, feeling, of gust. Draught in a skylit mine.
Shock is a gift. Won’t hurt a bit. I lift my bags light.
Anyone’s help! A bar across, he loved the poetry. He’s right!
It isn’t always about a purchase for him to be welcome. A call-in deliverance isn’t a try.
Does it cushion, with the elders? Your eyes!
You left drowned . . . A stem paced bide.
v.
The toughest walk up an inselberg strait why
in wobbling funk soothing in crossed-out whines
fills the pitcher seat with naught ‘ut peccavi crime.
With water to take home. I thank four lobes twined.
Three brothers. The fare dime.
The slip-fall of a mum. Sorry. A slip promised another; truth in time. Future grime.
A parlour meet ends with a feint sprig of whodunnit, smitten token bite-sized.
The loudest hail from a clock shift sides and gore tears dried.
Peace with the marauder when he derides: his timbre; plots of dove heights.
Poise in his amnesia dissipating cloud with the willow lite.
vi.
I left with a hoe, it felt a whit of jut mile
a careen curse avoirdupois unearthed bye
in the wake of a diglossic family bier mire.
A secret! Of what? One amiss. Outlandish? My lot to writ . . . clandestine kind.
The unnerved breaths had the pause — light in capture — trite
as bearer returns tonsure betoken through a fjord bar-long. A chine.
Homebody loves a sit even if he can’t afford a swig, but this chide?
A quiet pit: I close soon, been here for you. Still. Faced with the leaden, at loss to the idling.
Twiddling, I bother he help me with the lighter of the two. His pooch: security crisis.
You could die over the night’s course. He plumped from behind.
Loathing his . . . His! At the back of the tricycle the bonged hype.
A hutch of aims.
Arranged.
Memories arched
come in gains.
I zapped the open-fury with a cloze test.
The routinised sauce attitude
at this vapid meaninglessness of what dangled.
The commissure braille for the deaf.
The seated extended, what for sederunt
or a Rorschach letting a crumble
through the steeplechase.
Nothing heard but perceived
a changing soliloquy by night's bathe
with voice inflections registered but not haptic
lest it be sentimental.
I to wait for an attaboy at admittance to an inly soot no longer venial.
Storming out has the weight of a cadre chase out.
A bride leaving for a date . . .
i.
The aerial canopy over my head
came down
in the form
of a fall morning’s chill.
I couldn’t retail quite
the chink of id;
fink in the room
bogged eyes, jink boon.
The past days bottled the said and said
wile reticent advertent.
Leaving untrue.
I made carefree the finicky loss
in the darkness owning the dust lustre of everyone met.
Performative recluse crumbs of altering posture;
damning thoughts splintered in blank cuddles
undress, in foible clag up squat pergola
infuscating backsides dimming away rode-taut
in welcome of leitmotif gilded cages.
ii.
The aerial canopy over my head
came down
in the form
of a glass graduate
collimating the flesh out.
A paroxysm pallor screed
halting the solarium grith
in inkwell pluvial dushes.
Light poles . . .
still they are always here.
You’d expect fair.
Matching the year.
And it goes.
When I'm away from you, I miss your touch
you're the reason I believe in love.
Oh, I'm a wreck without you here.
Yeah, I'm a wreck since you've been gone.
I'll see you again, my loved one.
. . . creeps up the mob stick
wobbling streak-tick.
Tail flick.
Air nick.
The distant sink
out of reach. Prick!
In a moment's click
she knew sudden clink
this air sweep quick
is new blink.
Deal! You dill.
Steer . . .
. . . Well, swing.
Off!
Mono. Don't know. A no-no.
The old log. Repetition. Soul-eater.
With the curtains drawn
the billowy hate-tan bellows . . .
The ode-lock.
Puff! Puff!
The old log.
The old log.
My journal’s noob at pernicious derailment.
A jolt over probable self-denseness.
The runner-sense leads:
clad your thoughts with words. Bear forth ASCII;
the game-ball muff.
I had won.
Seventy two thousand word . . .
They need it . . . let them go at it.
Want more?
I’ve spent days spent heaving away seething thoughts carving prodding craves at enlisting few days from now at the camp of embellished time wasters.
The wise publisher at the desk; a temple’s sudden weight-way; chestnut-lens broken for its fit-wit lack?
I’m beyond scared, a demurring artery escaping its bed as it worries bothersome.
Writing again — true to its flow — word-hedged, as its credence outside of the paleness riveting its now thought of unworthiness remaining at the bed.
Better to be a blood stained parchment than the fingers clenched in grating teeth ferreting a long closed road for a new route.
The email read four, or five working days, I’ve lost the dose. If it counts for a cure.
Poorly received they’d think, if my response goes in late. But a rigorous count till it exactly marks the stipulated wait-time is my plan. Get a device, get on the internet and weigh the dame. I loved and still; them slim.
