|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
III - Listening For Night.And a big breath
Leaves your bare chest
My ears are piping up against your skin
Giving up, letting go, letting in.
And an afterglow, an afterglow
that embers out on the horizon
The drunkards fight for night
And they're bound to win
And as the last traces
Of the mountain silhouette
slides off the rooftops
The drunkards fought for naught
Since they were bound to win.
II - Line Eleven.Sometime, could we?
The tyrant is emptied
And rain is gathered in my palms.
Your ankles twist, a birthing song.
Rock outcropping in a scene
From a travel magazine,
A stage is set for macro shots
Of dandelions and body parts
Your shoulder blade, my fingertips
Searched for where your wings start.
I- At the Jetty.'A body of water floats ahead; a corpse, a corpse!
A tinge hotter.
'A storm spotter flags red; it's dead, it's dead!'
The ocean life said.
A crack to the head; you nursed me to health
At the jetty
The sun had set in red
But delight was away with the sailors.
A body of water floating face down.
A body of land kissing its mouth.
Blue Fields.why don't you go ahead and
i need a good amount of learning
my fields are blue
azure fan-blades, paint stroke shields
the power of 'never knew'
courses inside a system sealed
i think my soul needs to be healed
naked on the floor, crying
i heard your window sighing
i'm not but you say i'm lying
my fields are blue
i feel like slowly dying
whenever i know what's true
i'm vulnerable in a new milieu
nostalgic summer art beaulieu
could i be a nazi, too?
Parthenogenesis.Roses in mouth, thorn in tongue mystery.
The cuts in the sky are just a memory.
Blood grown garden tapestry,
cloud carved carnage above me.
And to think of the minor deity
that made us into windswept enemies...
Sand castles in wave decay,
summer slept your life away.
Erosion's just a game we play
as we rot through Saturdays.
And to think we are everything,
we could never be without this ring...
I hate and love you equally.
Slow moving train wait on fast moving me.
Magnets feel a binding duality;
our repellents are mostly sensory.
Rebel hobo jump my track,
vagrant lover don't look back.
I feel solid in this rivalry,
reverse image of an older me.
Broken mirror of this broken truth.
A weakened toast to a wasted youth.
Drunk on the wine of maybe.
(Might be pregnant with our baby.)
Melismatic No MoreI'll have no opaque friend of mine
Do tactful tricks for Balanchine;
Let's just say that I'd prefer a butchered stitch of Frankenstein
That spontaneity is working fine
To a dog-breathed procedure-swine.
Let's break the roads that run straight lines.........
Couldn't we just deform?
Melismatic no more
Concave bodies on a hot sidewalk
Cracking under the pressure of doves taking off
Rhyming with the sounds of thunder
Moonwalks on the sun
Art painting itself
Sex with no interaction
Fingers on piano keys, playing in reverse
Deflated balloon animals
Keep in Touch!