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thinking
thinking
there are birds
three birds
a lie, I wrote a lie
I lay soon
but can only think of one thing
you know
you know
but it is ankle below my love
a chain, a rock, a place to taste
place a mirror, point at ourselves
giggle, breath and again
because I can't tell what you look like
in a heated place or chilled
with warm hair, hood in reserve
the interruptions are bait
it makes us real more
the kindness the pitter
the animal crackers
the milk and jello
the patter
on snow, wine flow
my
right arm sweeps
to the heavens
to the waiting room
with tables in a row
this is what should be
convention food
probably chicken or chicken taste alike
or craters from the moon by UPS
back in my room we don't talk to any one
so much kissing, so much to account for
counting down and up
up and down
there is a spiral in here
we could call the front desk or just let it spin
hayden? haden? hey charlie, got a moment to change my life?
oh
my god
charlie who?
slight big strummer
he may shake my hand some day
(fantasy, he wonders about the boneheads)
with glasses
then there is the loneliest blues
when there is not sound
just the blue silence
of tty and hand signals
and passion accumulating
there is salad too
sorry, need to say...
salad spread upon your small back
dressing pooling in dimples with strands
I may never leave this place.
look at your self sideways
then look at me that way.
line up your friends and pets
do things to make them smile
from the rear, then lay
the camera on the floor
timer armed
flash
flash
Stop The War
Stop The War
poet?
have you ever felt used?
spent and both sides rubbed like a shiny coin?
between fingers is nice.
right?
twisted and soothed.
called a name or names
like I want to do
in a canyon named for some special vulture
that eats everything up
and ignores napkins,
the glance from the Queen of England,
her busty ways are comical at times
but, tonight she is totally letch
and greedy, and loves to have her thighs
poured over.
she got all my gravy and dressing by Paul Newman
in the easy open squirt bottle.
Please shake before squirting.
perpetual virgin
~there
are no words on this line~
that is why there is a virgin button
on my back
on my back
it came to me one day
the day I was born
just a little baby
with a button in his back
a button in his back
now I am creeping up on death
so not to surprise
there is a button in my back
slightly set in so
not to interfere with my undie
line
my undie line
go to sleep, now
hey, you guys and gals
no
cheating,
Laurel will not award the prize of a trip to your wildest dreams if you
cheat.
Bad spelling is a sure sign that you are an honest person.
how about if a bunch of erotic poets tell W that war is never a good
idea.
here is my mispelled word.
it is pro0f that I am against war and in favor of making love.
poems are goofy
poets are goofy and very cool and smart and can't get enough sux
for O. T.
I
thought it was obvious.
a potato chip in his prime
short but lanky,
dip interested
a morsel
a tad
a bunch of A's lined up
a reason for this
a gnash
i
dont want
or want
I dont want
grey rug
but grey on top is nice
I want grey on top
I want
does a train come to your house
with me on it
and my bags?
in one dream Johnny winter
blew me a kiss
it missed
but that's ok
his brother turned
and keyed
deep
down my back of throat
that guttural
like a mississsippi paddlewheeler
beating on my chords
it's a cry for help
a taste of peppermint
it's the old vinyl spinning
right now
my Corky
here goes
there
goes, we goes, it goes, some goes potty
"It is not as goes," says a stranger.
A lost and perplexed stranger needing nothing.
The lives go on. The stranger drifts into
the sets for bringing out later.
Scene II,
never write a play late at night in a forum.
it causes one to open.
end of monologue,
all lust is made into those stringed puppets
not kites
what a shame
pop toys
pop quiz
in the afternoons
of March long
not melting fast enough
no end in sight so
go around back
so mention green things
eat soup
drink ice
nix on kidses
they
go in places
take off socks
never tell
always tell
smile
and mean it
till they learn
just have your leg hugged
it learns your name
down spiral
down spiral
the basement stairs
leaving socks on step 7
bare foot on 100 year cement
gotta pick this critter up,
carry to gramma
yuck, all those kisses
like the saint big dog
in slobber back house chained
no
no dance on my dime
but that kiss was very,
you know'
very that way
know when to say
when to say
what words should go here
cheese
out of can
water on top
to drain
cracker busted
glue together
for afternoon
visitors
with snacks
hardtack staple
wind hair in face
her eyes masked
her treat sardines
this
here
this is
no need
no reason for rewrite
so tight and wholesome
so cool below no moon
dim lit
welcome the place
the inner
the lip kisser
no plan for poem or agenda
lash smack position
written on spot
no substitutions
flounder like a fish
I want my lover floppy
late
shut up
put a fire on
lick me, kiss me
hold me late
do a trick
make me laugh like
you did last year
darling
it's not over not matter how much you pray
same prey
same bird each time we give toe the little
girls and boys with sad such faces
and boney excuse for need
it's not over in the night with brass
with matches to light of no purpose
little length and sputter
so shut up
put a fire on, up, along side
shut up and roll face at us
we will do it too or roll away
away
plugged
with want
need an outlet
a cold one with ground
scratchy voiced, poised
stance with ready chuckle
for my mine
stepping off plane
there are sunflowers growing
against the terminal
we guess that is the sign
they meant to turn to
for the photos
all us beauty queens
and dapper clad poets
dark in drab pin stripe
khaki hacki
smack my fanny
just once do a thing
asked for, begged
pleaded, engraved
tattooed on all one knuckle
seldom but special
in
her house I chased
a mouse into a hole
that led to a wide blank
one void that could not be jumped
with brain or muscle or groin-a-fire
so we sat on our smolder
it sifted to the other side
the spirit side with brass buckles
paper matte vase,
it took all day for anything to happen
but here is not a place to talk or listen
so we sat back, chewed straws,
rented little cars and drove in circles
then there was sex, it was off the edge of the bed
we poured our little buns onto floor and down drain
we laughed at shit, literally.
free and stupid full of ourselves
our genitals and what ever is needed in this gap of humanity
the morning fell, not like anything, sorry
yes
the morning fell sorry
dew plus tears equal simple laying down
on a soft spot
next to a spoon lover
rocking all meridian
below eyebrows
painted inflight
by a confidant
of Sgt. Bunny
woman things
plural
joined at the hip
on fire
fuel for pointing face
at sky and never a sideways
view apart
the sound of a band aid ripping
arm hair is the sound last
morning,
she screamed my name aloud
then his, and again
the argument for free love
is still with the jury
they drink tea, green
moss tea with sea monkeys
they coagulate regular
they confer
they play old scratchy
and hum along
they enjoy the sun
heating the underside
of chin
comment to air person
"all
of a sudden passion suddenly" means not editing!
you may write with no time restrictions but
complete ASAP, submitted and then regretted.
compose completely within the window.
do not travel to your word masher and spell servants.
no copy pasted, no mushrooms on the pizza.
no rewriting!
needs,
seeds
hollyhock
mini maxi
mellowed verse violent
a spill, a hint at tip
breaking glass laughter
sky lit nite spelled
random
sands blown into clumps
around ankles, chins,
the poets big floopy ears
never ending flesh
sound of flesh
smell of never ending fire
standing
back to horizon
all 365
better to lay face down
there I go
over the edge
waving good bye
hair unruffled
pubes holding
gesticulation
lower lower
full arms
arms full of me
my ego grows
I want love
hush
not only you
but me
hush
there will no be speakin in this poem
only inner sound
feet in snow crunch
loud crackle with milk or ice water
melting like a wax lover
flowing over and down
his snow flake lady
she curses
she makes pancakes
she drives way away
a slingshot big bass beat
slap back brat
my big fat head
my big fat head
a duet of simple
singularity
stupidity
dig and walk out of
grave of own design
nice worm window coverings
squirmy all day suckers
sit a spell and take
have a sample spell
think it's the whole subscribtionary
leaf the dick shun airy
get down tonight
rfno
i like music
I didn't know before
"I love" is a bad boy phrase
phase to outgrow
she said, "and you call yourself a poet"
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