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It’s the audacious testicle dancing in its theater, isn’t it? Carrying the legendary names. The bad blood, the jealousy the heart retains, living again under its skin, rarely enlivened by one of its own.
There was enough angel in you that we would g
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104421
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Be aware the dog is king, radiant, emitting many beams, renewed by and restored by his fullness, his satiety. In many ways underlying all our hearts and minds, out of our notorious youth, ever the flower of our flesh on fire like a little reed next to the dried…
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2103721
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no reminders of the withered boards
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5400
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Then desiring the so-called animal, you entered, but did not pollute or defile our variable parts. You did not defile your lover by touching the untouched virgin heart, making passion out of fiery stuff and glowing beyond the sea, working something out
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106741
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On such warm nights when wet sex happens suddenly, please, remember the amaryllis. How they’ll push up out of the ground in August after the first real heat opens the air. I too was born in such weather.
Balmy nights when heat lightning beats in the
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133362
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The question posed a voluptuous riddle. Were these frenzied silhouettes
gestures of Jackson Pollock’s dribble?
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79841
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Shame must search the soul, broken, original, with its primitive juices stirred. Moved until now only by the musk, only the stroll you lived with, the worry, the sorrow, the drama – may I never conceal or recover from it!
Yes, I might beg or steal the
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This is the moment that’s never enough...
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Happiness is the twin disobedience, to hear, to burn, to fret, desiring union. They shall touch flesh, bluish even, that elicited the happy city's sin. Why be silent? The untouchable nothing?
Let there be that place, a little swelling therein, which
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With your belly filled with beer
and your eyes squeezed in squint
I'm almost magic
almost enough dirty angel
barred from broken jukebox heaven
for you to believe in
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I could feel myself slipping back into my old ways again and it always hurt like hell.
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I’m sick of you headless muffuckas
searching for a facelift.
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She went for the typewriter first.
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The knife that precedes the bigger knife that precedes the spoon that precedes the flat fork, with stuff like that I'm all butterfingers, & even though he's never been to Italy except once to shoot a gun when the world was a great big jumble, he remembers all…
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