Lust does not beget love
The radio recycles
The same sappy song
We’re on the rooftop
But it’s not romantic
Seeing the fresh morning sun
That we stayed up to greet
But it’s not romantic
It’s the fur of Cheshire Cat
All pinks and purple
In love with us
Not romance,
But devastation
I don’t get you
You say say say
They don’t love you like I love you


I deserve love
Fried and smothered in
Gravy chunks
Dribble down your dumb beard
I deserve love
And I am for you
I am tender loving kind
The ting to yer
The babadum
To your warm
Sweet smelling chest
But you don’t think
I’m for you?
The air is thick with unlove
And you think I’m not for you?

I’m here subservient
Feeling the static
Coming from your stare and skin
I’m a fool falling all over herself
A trapeze of unrequited
A clown
You need me you love me
And you think I’m not for you?

Bold move
Dear friend
Fried and smothered
Earth lover
Life fucker
Your name dances
On my tongue
As much as it swims
In my empty pretty head

My eyes have seen you
They gulp you all in
Two pools
Of murky water
Two honey pots
Full of nectar
Only for you
I am
Me only for you
And you think I’m not for you?

Tried and true
Your stain is unremovable
Your love a cause
For despair
Disrepair all my curls
Withering from lack of warmth
Your breath no longer
Dampening each strand
In the morning
No longer fogging over
My forehead like
The goddamn
Sweetest morning dew

I pray the lord we both belong to
He cauterizes this wound
After a swift incision
But I am a clown
And this is my 25 cent joke
Do you like it?
How am I not for you?

Glass stained
Slither past
Your holy fount
Doubt becomes a mist
The mist release
A musk
A must of spring anew
Desire is vibrant in
Every molecule
You can
See my two
Dancing in place
A pendulum
Following the heat
And heart
Incense incite
A flame in two cupped hands
Wishing I’d written
You something that beautiful
Rose quartz
Topaz Thomas
I’m your Tere
I’m your car wreck
The hopping rabbit
And everything vibrates in place
All shiver and slither and thither
Tithing thief
My heart in a wicker basket
Pushed on a river of blood
Now I’m writing you something new
And my temple is under siege
A forked road
Of stanzas not quiet merging
Of water and oil
Dissolve now in my throat
The body is broken
The glass window
Has been polished
By light beams
That seep into flesh
And warm up the river
To my wicker basket
Bithia finds me
At the shore

I’ve been taught better
But I stand convinced
We are built from pleasure for pleasure

Witness me, electrician of the Nile
Today I proclaim even suffering is
And all sensation is pleasure
Witness me, moonlit eyeballs and assholes

The glint of
The prepubescent boy’s gaze
Is full of purposeless possibility

Witness me, Ivy League school
With your safe chartered waters
And a certificate of wealth, excellence or both

Witness me, depravation
And sight
Witness me, long
Organ that wraps all in
Pain or incomparable delight

Witness me
Witness me
See sea see me
Sea saw my way into
Your circus

I’m here painted of face
Ready for warfare
Here ready for the long sigh
And short breath
The cardiac arrest
The bleeding steak
At my gnashing teeth
The purple stain
Of a night well spent
On thighs and neck

Witness me, moderation
For I am at peace when I
Climb the sensation
Of cessation
The agony
Of separation
The drum line
And drum skin
The trumpets at the brim

Witness me, messiah
I am forever yours
In tears and dreams and laughs
You are a dancer like me
A lover like me
A pleasure like me
Author of repetition and surrender
Author of sands and gold
Author of saliva

Does it matter that I’m a good poet?
That I can peel back your skin with
The edge of my tongue
That my fingers can pry
Into your heart
All thumbs
Hitching for your subconscious
To hop on in
Does it matter that I’m a good poet
That I’ve mirrored your secrets
Under harps of saliva
That I take the time to overthink
So you don’t have to?

Does it matter that I’m a great dreamer
That Jesus comes by in a John Stamos disguise
Or the disguise of e.e Cummings
Or the jolt of
A tumbling tower

Or the colorful mask at a ball
Or the proclamation that I AM
Fortune’s fool!

Does it matter that I hate the silence so much
I create my own buzz?

And it’s your noise
Lingering in my inner ear

Your mouth in my cavern
The pulse of a breath so heavy
You desire the oxygen lanced
From the lung
For the buzzing to stop

But I won’t let it

I’ll drown in it, goddamn it

You need to breath loudly
as much as I need to hear it

Without your noise
The emptiness would take over
And I’d be one of those annoying enlightened types

That like themselves.

And once that happens
Will it matter if I’m a poet?

En Vogue

I want to die because the earth is not flat
I want to die because I’m a slave to health insurance
To be sedentary is the murder of the soul
But to be aggressive
To fight back
In tundra weather
Russian fatalism
I’d rather condone
I want to die because the snow
Is too heavy
And it feels like nothing
Over all my face holes.
I want to die cus there’s no snow
I want to die
Cus I’m in uncle sams land and I like it
But they cut the arms and feet of
My sugar cane island
They syphoned it from gold first
Then let the cowboys come thru
With X-ray vision thru cells
And conquered the hills
When their voices were loud as thunder
Gag me spank me
Colonize me gently
in the seat of the neighborhood barber
I wanna die
Because I still bought an iPhone
But I knew
I wanna die
Because no one will ever fall in love with Me
I wanna die cus everyone else keeps doing it.


I smell like spring time hurled me
out of its bowels
Like everything crushed beneath your foot
On wet soil
Jasmine wafting out my strands of hair
My skin glistening with coconut oil
Lotion of citrus,
I murdered an orchard
And wore its skin
And lilies made their way under my thumb
To my neck
Wrists and inner thighs
I smell like spring time
Come take a whiff of me
After the rain stops.