stilted
whorl
dark as starlings
lean tiny against
the giant days
the gaunt bed
with its night remains
the television dream
stains

copulations of stars
like grams fired
the water rising
in a gurgling world
overflowing capacities
lull
crawling like silver
flesh in the shaded
contours of carpet
the waxed nicotine
yawl of time
scratched like a trapped
pack
menthols from the
sunshades pack

I will write of the gems I have held
Some in my mind others in my heart
Yet they are held with a love so pure
A thought that will fill eternity’s hold

They are a band of poets striving away
They are from all places with all thoughts
Here they play with words in tidy rows
Though we must take each word carefully

When you talk of their words talk with calm
Be gentle with their lives as they burden you
Think of all they have been through or why
They come to us each day poetry to unfold

Crystalline screams
echoing out of openings
of the orifices of my skin
seeping out syrupy lies
and malignant paradoxes
frozen in the waves
of tranquil idiosyncrasies
trapped in a cage
of flesh and feverish
brain cells by degrees
developing from
waste to procreations
in the deep facets
filling spaces with
fetal thoughts and infancy
becoming ever-increasingly
born and reborn

Magnetron squeeze
thrown out against the edge
holding on at the eternity brink
the aura fires roiling
like blue stark morning

squeeking hinge vault width
an aperature
full of nights aromas
a dry dustdevil spin
on the shadows of day
grounded fast
like a bad idea

timid and shy
the first cocktail
lush lust preparation