Monday, June 23, 2008

In that which is asked upon the cheek

You in what I presume was green
and pink- off the cliff, awkward yet
to see you is something of a past
and floor bound dream
Made with nonfat, we are
questioning the texture and such forms
of spinning- Cake is always playing

Some womon, I don’t like her-
she reenacts the weekend trip and
I play dress-up so as to be her
thoughts in him for a moment

Not exactly how I pictured the
bone structure to fall- lost in the
chapstick, these requests are
embarrassing- running out of piles to
lump your skin in, flaking, down to
five strings on the guitar

Under a waterfall, we sat in
the corner and laughed about
your lack of redness and
fucking your mother on a bed
of nails
It was gentle
It was meditative
Not at all the awkwardness
of opposite sidewalks and the
thumping of bungee cords
. . .This never worked . . .

Your face is shaped like a heart
the kind drawn by the dead
wearing felt hats, all neon and
glue-sticked on

Someone lit a match inside an
air pump
and they say that’s how
winking and riding began
a ridiculous collection of vocabulary
unplugged and disengaged
By now, this could be anyone at a
wine garden and you, you snuck in
your flask full of PBR/bourbon,
despite the obvious gag
reflexes. You continue to wink like
meteorites, tugging at your tee
with the Camel’s logo printed

It is inappropriate to show up at
any event in black face
It is inappropriate for you
to scratch as hard as you do
in public

Behind the curtains, we speak
of Cairo, we speak of our
disdain for the word naughty-
(we are not baby dolls)
nor is the constant lapsing of
your breath intriguing when
trying to sleep
it is now 3:38am
and the seltzer water
has officially become one with
the carpet
(again, not what I had imagined)
still picking at the walls

Are my small, yet unbound breasts
Did someone whisper
of the sand and dust mixed
and my heroism
a love for that- the letter a-
a mess through your teeth
the going away
a top 20 list of door knobs
lisping music-listen
Your rhythmic beauty
and hair length control
of happening
that pattern
a beginning to love you
so much more than
anything else of before

Someone mentions the presence
of others
of early morning
if of lies and lemons
we are cutting
beneath the words
and blankness

Discrediting lines- this
should have been years before
should have been my lips on
your pen and we continue to
move past the distance and

I counted the rips in your
hair and found myself
counted the rhythmicness of
make-believe and I like going
out on your roof
the connectedness of body
and sleep
(we have become of can)

Distance in the circles
of cantos
of such immaculate
gabbing and carrying on
this threesome has
emerged more than any condom
had texture
and swerve
reclaiming touch

Come come cum
and curl among the way you
are holding
there is so much beneath
your jeans, her jeans,
so poetic
unable to explain how much
and of sitting on stomach
and of sitting on everything
all but replies

Something far away in
the flying
Standing and of gone but
coming back and then will
no, your slide show appearance
means less to me than
the spirals and
overlapping and taped together

I wish you would
come back before
the clipping and burning out
I know we said this was
the beginning of color
and we all use hands among
such distance

Naked, we have learned
how to write
how to close and
draw as if kisses
all our bones scratching
as if you just blinked
(I watched you read in silence
and hope to maintain)

beneath you
we could all go beneath and
create something out of not even
I write with the sun
dink around
and lay with you

Began counting among these
four walls a lack of stuff
and loving
As an appetizer, I begin
sucking your toes up to knees
and forehead
the ways of hills in your
and of obvious longing


Alex said...

This is fucking amazing...

i love the shit out this...

we will miss you!


jess rowan said...

lovely, we're ready for you to come home now.