| i mean it. |


breastmilk for your cocktail"breast milk for your cocktail"breastmilk for your cocktail
for four years there was warm milk the hard percussion on my porch at five forty two whether i was conscious or even better off he would come with white homogeny inside latex labeled glass (i was too smart to ask him to come inside & sit quietly by my side & drink it with me)
my clumsy mistakes replacing cleverness became his dignity the bottles as bedfellows my eyes closed he wouldn't ever play for me in in C, the only way simple men arrange notes, so fundamentally
the swell of my chest evened out sin


catching onCHAPTER ONE: invokes a perceived dream that won't endcatching on
This body, like all bodies, wilts under touch. I want (so. much.) to lick the film of This (your) puh-rahy-i-tl lobe melt the scalp with my bottom lip,
make us make cognitive, contingent sense, with thumb v. forefinger: roll back the skull's concave plate. The body impedes and never forgets a mistake or trepidation.
your oration: LOVE WITH WORDS, THEN
Do you remember when physics believed the heavens were higher than Earth? And now? We are all now dirt. Talk to me until your vocal chor


one way ticketone way ticket: jan. 18th 2009one way ticket
narcoleptic drenched in rest deep like a cotton candy cloud, starves loudly. in his sleep
stomach walls condensed against the small intestine, recycling bile from the windpipe into the mouth (slapping the teeth), puddling below the six days tardy paramedic's feet.
relaxed fingers open til then sustained just on holding her hand again.
Studio One
--
Ive always walked in straight lines because I was taught to walk that way.
But theres something about a jaunty stride that tempts me to transgress
And take the winding road.
--
Ada or Ardor Media;
[link]
Ada or Ardor: A Family Chronicle;
[link]
Previous PageNext Page