Flora
fast by you
body of grass
black earth body
body of an ask
three billion years
four billion blades
body yet new
when i lie still
fast by you
you find me
//
lipsblum and parfum ooze
the cherries fell and placed their fingerprints
between my feet like small mouths of a month
of its here its a bloody wee well of a red whale
her fluke-petals strewn long the grey and white tile
and smudge of a moth in the blossoms to clear
but im always her hem and im on the sore brink
of love with the let-jet and inky-bruise style of it
like my pussy would write her own un-willing book
would underwear-stain me an avant-garde blotch
of enfant terrible for primordial brood
elsewhere wind-egg dramatic and lithe acrobatic
some brown-wise residuum to raging en rouge
sex-flowing battle and kiss-knowing cramp
my blew-brewing worm of verbage vole-damp
a crescendo howled in my bowling-ball clamp
and how you offered to switch off the lamp
so i wouldnt need to move at all
so i lie lust-fallow-unfastened at last for now
and i shower near the violet melati that you grow
with slugs softly tucked in a wet toilet paper roll
//
🌖
//
after
the easy way out
saucy
like a bruise
cherry
&c
& the maskmaker
who called lip balm that
hot fast & the slow burn
eat in the dark
shit quest
love fast
sleep like the sun
die like the day
dream of your almighty face
devouring
in darkness again
//
its sambal tomat
under nights black thread
and the rivermouth on fire
its filling but on isis time
so i haw and fret
to make counter time
for my ligatory chord
for my throwing bones
for the holy month
for otherwise
//
tempe & daun salam
//
🌒
Indras net (what belongs to the familiar)
around her head a sardine circlet
around her foot mortality
around her voice a glittering corset
around her heart a memory
she reflected on the dawnlight
she was setting in her place
she looked sober in the photo
but you couldn’t see her face
eye for eye and cell to cell
did you knot me to be brave
did you tie me from a shoestring
toss my frame across the wave
name the garnet in my cherry
your horizon on the deep deep wine
as i lost count of drowning
for the promise of a rhyme
for your blessed rage to swallow
i was waiting at the altar
and a pearl was burning bitter-sweet
when i tasted your salt water
when i saw you in the restaurant yesterday
and you finally appeared
Indras net was drawing closer
Indras net was catching tears
when you saw that i was deadly
when you wrote my rib in two
i was made and i was unmade
to make better love to you
and every lace undoing
to find the heart of sand
and every mark to fill the worth of a blade
with the imprint of her hand
and every glass was melting thunder
to the predatory corner
and a little death for the purities of power
to the mountain out her window
to the wildflowers evening color
to the sky and sea and weather
to the darker voice that rose
to the horses all untethered
she heard it was one million
she heard one million seven
the circle dreamed it would be easy
the fishes knew it would be heaven
you know my situation
you know what keeps me here
you know ocean is an islands final word
and what belongs to the familiar
//
lyrics for conscience round
music and idea from angles morts
adaddy (of lies)
she sings full coverage seashells for sirens
on oceans stews of roiling fatted wine
she forks her sunset locks for nobody
her cockled chains abreast the silvered brine
she quacks and its a salty bouillabaisse
a diddys rouille on croutons midnight crime
she lays to bed adaddy of earthquakes
her morning simmering the sky star-peppered
//
lemon & roses
//
🌘
tiger nest //
laron
pulse, on paper-smoke and shadowing; a word
kept embers leaping, or whittling laced attention
when the swarming cloud was passing out and in
to the conic torchlight, flint-yellow, on a smudged
and charcoal night; the humid heart grew lungs
at the carpal joint, let choirs through the rupture
soft cedar traces wrinkles into the maiden mask
of the moon; the flickering phase transfixes them
//
🌔
feelings //
the good shit
for Petals in her present pleasure zone
she’s rolling round inside the one, the good shit
the fine, the best, ye olde Platonic shit
no hydroponic, just sanctified dank
under Sumatran sun; for snub-nosed exodus
in summers mud, her laurel wreath of sticky bud
up drug botanical by trashy magazine
like chocolate pharma-chronic feuilletine
and toke thine truffled nugget whilst ye may
my silk-eared pig for liplined valentine
today her carrot conversation hearts the play
her eats the emptiness of tools as feels divine
//
E=m11!1
//
🌒
crossing //
ovarian //
Socrates: by Hera, it is a beautiful resting place
this platanos tree is hugely wide-spreading (amphilaphes) and high (uphelos); and of the chaste tree, the height and the dense shade are entirely beautiful; and as she holds on (echein) to the cusp (akme) of her full bloom, she supplies such a sweet-smelling place; and also the graceful stream is flowing under the platanos tree with exceedingly cool water, by the witness (tekmairomai) of my foot
and by the girls and the statues it seems to be the temple (hieros/hieron) for some kind of Nymphs and of Achelous; and again, if you wish, the good breath (eupnous) of the place, how sufficient (agapeton) and violently pleasurable (sphodros hedu) it is; summery and clear, it responds to the chorus of cicadas; and most subtle (kompsos) of all is the grass, that it has grown (phuein) in gently to the steep slope, sufficient to hold, for one who has laid down their head, altogether beautifully
so it has been the best stranger guide for you, O beloved Phaedrus
held
i grasp, i grasp, i fumble empty air
my fever head green tea cat litter ache
my cannot place the growing failure make
my pillow eats the grass until i wake
//
pause for illness
Socrates: (cont.) that it has grown (phuein) in gently to the steep slope, sufficient to hold, for one who has laid down their head, altogether beautifully
// 230ξ
ὅτι ἐν ἠρέμα προσάντει ἱκανὴ πέφυκε κατακλινέντι τὴν κεφαλὴν παγκάλως ἔχειν
//
of all
the most subtle
that of the grass
that in gently
to the steep
sufficient has grown
for one who laid down their head
altogether beautifully
to hold
//
maidenhair //
sound
returning traces undergrounding borne
as open airing round, roots longing light
commemorating leaves inhuman voice
midsummers dream, a choir, the covered face
//
way //