nine

 

one. two. three. four scream. five squat. six fuck. seven ouch. eight wait. nine win. 

fotografo muel.

thanksgiving

at the grey lady. we sing fractal hymns. formulas and voice. snap the tips of the cold fondling finger tops. a delicate smell of the festive forks. a clink of glass. and melting wood. a beating mob. of cheer and quip. let it foam and flush. and swell and squeeze. the voice of thanks. the prize of grace. the still of leaves of thunder brains. white with paint. mold with fear of mourning sands. rockaways, the penumbra colts. the jagged frills of the cold, elegant decorative. tonight we ring. the bells and tolls of highway frocks. of gods and sheep. of strings and pus. disguise your love. hide your lights. the neon eyes. and carpet stamps. mulberry plum. let me hold. your hands in shame and love.

caress the moon. tonight, like he. and him and his. sweet saturday love. spread your eyes. in a momentous pinnacle of the whirring aphrodisiacs. the lesbian herd. instrumental to the realization of a mosaic identity. a pattern work of half truths. a floating base of multiple me. of multiple i. you will never know. the cigarette smoke. why does it twirl. where does it mix. and match and vibe. vaporize in space. hovering in leaps. and snaking in toes. the lips outstretched. incipience of a category class of the vapored and the vapid and the intrepid love-lace lullaby. section-less identity. why do you hyperbolize the strength of your character? to impress. who? the world of corn. the world of ears. the world of this classist look-ist tentacle auditorium of judgmental beauties. the beasts, they suffer. they repent. evading the interconversion. let us be mannered. let us be the conservative ideal of the morality wisdom etiquette. let us display the ethicality of the text book prints. for our conscience -the laughable body-mongers. the pristine humanity of interaction. yet, the beastiality you hide. bores fangs on the simplicity of your lattice-lust. to come back and say, this is my identity alone. is a faux interlude of your inner eccentricities, complexities and desires. you are not the one and only by-product of a sinewy character building. i certainly am not. never will be. the subtracted product of condition and situation. to present a trope. you say, you lie. lie, yes. you may not know the truth of my core. this is my collage-identity. this is what we call the tailor-made. the tailor, the self. making makes and goods. the hypotenuse parallel of identity songs. to one, you are the pauper dust. the proverbial failed. the spice of doom. every lie. every death. identity kill. stabbed with the spade of matador kings. the truck fantasies of a dying mechanic political hegemony. one word string song. you meaningless mindless spurt fountain devil! you flirt with lies. and the ninety seven cloud stains of gibberish.

mulberry plum. i give thanks to the pontificate of the heart-wringing emotionality of the cold, dying spectrum. take a breath. hold your smile. unfurl your soul and fly. 

kodaline and the songbirds

kodaline. let us sing. a song of joy. a song of grace. passion fruit and violent gin. and press your lips. your finger tips. and cherry tops. broken frocks of plastic slime. your spots and dots. string in song. and fashion whores. barbarians of the winter love. they fuck and scream. and howl in song. and milk their eyes. and wax their shells. of fashion moons. and lunar tunes. fall and spring. the apple rings and naked ferns. aroused in chills. wake from dreams. sweet kodaline. let us sing. a song of joy and love.

you hide behind the lace of strings. your curtains curl. your blinds a-fold. your bushel rice. and drops of gore. it's time tonight. this month of love. the cancer fix. the story sings. one by one. the glow of skin. wrapped in wine. and off the shrine. your naked art. astonished and forlorn. you bite your skin. and bleed in joy. the hungry tides of november bliss. the sweat of smoke. gallop past your cheerful face. you man of filth. you finger pube. disdainful jazz. your famished art and hopeless kiss. they mean nothing. they speak nothing. a paper wrap, on your lips. you catch your breath. you hold your tongue. and pull the life off this caricature wall. if you were true. to displace my grace. to spit my face and say...anomalous brown. get off my frown. i cry in pain. i would slide my self in acid cans. in sunday fumes. and chicory lint. and shard my soul. orange organics. precipitate on a refusal of our audacity. of our poverty of minds. because, you do not tire. because you cannot decide. because you cannot please the sonnets of your own. frigid soul. because you play this game of blame. with pride and lust. and this staged hankering of attend. always, to your needs. to your whims. to this dielectric chiffon-mask of our triangulated incongruity.

kodaline. sweet love of mine. let us draw the line. 

the gertrude songs

dear gertrude and olive-stein. we met that night. at carnegie rains. in the midst of a cold manhattan evening. your lashes pale. you reverie of chariots. a wheel mockery of music. a trollop of sorts. your letter of dimes. you whispered to the moon. honeydew saccharin. take your tears. roll the edge. and bead a tale. of pepper-dust and sand. of the frivolity of play. the theater elite. the flautist behind. caressing your womb. the sweet vagina smell. you dizzy in the midst of the november rhymes. the poetic musk. the winds of death. you smile as you walk. and protrude your breasts. sequined and hemmed. you wink at me. and exit.

in my mind. i sang to you. the lullaby tales of the greek civil. the dome of trills. the whisk. and lust. and a poly-maze of the hebrews. on walls and walls of berliner tales. the mustard days of reign and reich. the gold of blood. tragedy of the beast. the identity wheel. a race of sorts. climb the shrine. of a fake divine. of a decorative. of a fake nurture of promise. the semblance of a blind sonnet. an empty verse that rhymes to cry. that swells and lisps. a saturday joy. a virgin whore. a spectacle of the polyandry foreplay. the gamut of the insensitive. i rage. and cringe. the gertrude songs. on parapet skins. who milked your soul? and fanned your lust? feral and coarse. with this balm of self-delusion. you sing to say. let us forget? the history of days? this self-deceit. this lie to please. to please the who? you sate your lies. and bite your lips. pretend the category of sensibility. but i have known your truths.

check

i follow humans of new york. this photograph is dear to me.

story.

"Are you volunteering today?"
"Something like that. I'm the Chief of Personnel for the New York Fire Department. I'm making sure everyone is where they need to be, and has what they need."
"Oh wow. Do you mind if I take your photo?"
"Sure. Can my son be in the picture?"

r

in your turtle shells. and monet purse. etiquette brows are flooded with the finger-play of sunshine. the fall that fell. smoking cigarettes and sweat. and a nation proud. of our queer and lost. of our nipples and rust. of the moon flake curtains. of the wind of the blacks. and catechism blues. the jazz of coal. the white of slate. the new republic crawls. the gods asleep. the demons dead. our times of cheer. at the empire state. we celebrated love. the love of blues. and carousel cheers. dancing hums of the fragile birds. flightless yet. senseless yet. loveless yet. they were barred from loving men. they were scarred for nipples love. for the breast caress. the narrowed, oppressed and the vagina squeal. it is one. the salt and flake. the memory lanes of governance. fold the rug. in half. quarter. eigth. and more. going lilt. put away the sound of steel. the revolver bruise. the right to die. the right to froth. the right to choose between. god and soul. soul and love. love and abomination of a power-hungry aphrodisiac. this taint of man and melody of peace. unite in an epithet of the accepted. the acceptance. of preach and teach. the children of tomorrow. their mothers milk and fathers pen. the right to destroy. despite your god. despite your soul. despite the passion of the one-only. the in and out of blood and life, is mine and mine alone. 

i do.

let us say. in cold mountain blues. you wed your child. your spouse of sorts. your effigy of love. of lust. of soul trilling whirls. and the swirl of pink. and blue wind dolls. hollow in red. this pedophile, you scream. this child is love. your coeval muse. you call it child. your babe you say? the fur of maze. waffling songs. over and over. a chandelier yolk. this is sport and love. i do. we do. we did. it all.

but. in the the theater space of life and death. the ocean garb and navy blue. your fastened mask. your netted socks. so disposable. the sterility. this barrier wall of now and there. this is clean. do not touch. we sprayed and fumed. this room of blood. this cave of steel. we painted walls. and built a smile. panic not. you mother-child. hold your breath. think of god. sing a hymn. or paint a boat. in your mind of minds. sleep your pain. this theater of dimes begin.

the actors stand. outside the door of this mannequin pool. a stream of pines. oh water drop blues. come cleanse my hand. wash away the touch of lust. the touch of sex from saturday rhymes. and scrub your palm away. and scrub and scrub. this co-evolution of garb. the nomenclature. scrubs. before you scrubbed your myth and jazz. you took it off. the band of love. displaced the sweat. displaced the tension. of the sacrament of love. the visualization of the matrimony paradox. you took it off. and placed in the midst of pockets. clinging to your chest. your nipple roars. you touched in silence. i do. you say. and take a pause. i take this ring. off my soul. to save a death. this is norm. this is convention. this is the forcefulness of the blue-code professional. did you guilt? did you cry? did you swing amidst the century brides and say. you let me go. come back to me. off and on. and off and on. a cycle of spells. i do. i don't. i do. i don't. a pattern fork pitch. the band of sounds. that played that night. are mute.

take the band. and hold your voice. what marriage means? what social sweat has led to bleed. to believe. to pry an institution of sights and sounds. and lights and cheer. save this day. we declare the faith. built on what foundation? when did you learn to trust. or earn belief. when did you carve a destiny. for you and me. or speak the officialdom of the expected grace. when did you decide, this was time. to bend your knees. to propose to man or lady-love knits? holding together. this cohesive soul of band on band. when and why. a building brew. peril of love. saccharin man. your face of bass. the hippie flair of your inner poet. smells composition on a careening sonnet. survive. survive. surreal blooms. a network void of fading emotionality. you shy and fear. the dangerous revolt. of rejection and smiles. of the dubiosness of a power fling. the urgency of a wandering love. i do not have. we didn't have. we never knew. we never told. we set aside the crease of cold. we never spoke of the tenderness. ashamed. unprepared. you didn't know, when to say. this is time. this is love. what if i didn't feel. i don't. i do. i don't.i do. i don't.

comb

bella rouge. promise me. your purple bells. and melon scarf. yellow and gold. in a chromosphere. in a shadow stilt. in a ribbon swing. and a paradise maze. i slap my lips. and comb my hair. parallel logs. of identity whores. we steal. each other pulse. stencil tongue. of maps and globes. you trotter of dimes. your wind chant dance. bella rouge. give me your hand. for yours is the tongue i love.

who you are. and what you dream. and seek. and walk. and talk and crawl. no one knows. no one will. this cloak of sweat. of tears and salt. bespeak the melody of a thousand years. knock below. who talks? who hears? your unsung wish. your dream catcher moves. your ambition. dissolves, at times. creates, at times. when you lost god. and faith. and the religiosity of your childhood tentacles. forced on your imagery of logic. you cannot think. you cannot move. your reasons lie. bundled in breaks. you have failed. will fail again. will break again. will cry again. this cycle of songs. like your lunar blues. learn to nod. redeem the arm. and let's hug again. square zero, this time. building one. and two. and a million bricks. bella rouge. your fallen domes. will wake and smile. it won't be late. i swear.

heart rhyme trilogy

lily vine. smile at me.

and this is how we spoke. pageant school. in the theater again. the ocean garb and fragile frills. a white over-awning on your nipple tops. stand behind the line. and put to sleep. inject. infuse. away from the topography of poison venules. in the space behind the pinch. inject the rose. and put to sleep. wait. your clicking tips. your ticking clicks. a minute and seven quarters around. you tap and pinch. what was your name, hazy plume? the silence of sleep. and mechanic buzz. this the time for the artifice.
you lift the lid. the life of life. and snip the tip. to perfuse. to make a beat. one too many. and once they broke, the rhyme of chimes. i made it stop. the beating dove. the tomb of love. there was the end. the ocean garb, patterned with blood. for humanity, we said. the frozen dead. will save a song. will save a life. lily vine. which plumes are mine? which feathers i dipped in honeydew milk? coated in rust, and carved in breeze. the heart rhyme trilogy of the dead and peace. for this is the love i broke.

you said in paint. let us love your gait. let us thread the shoes. command to life the element of whip. in love we sang. and bent our eyes. it was gone. you are not. the one i thought. the one i would. the one i did. you lily vine. come realize this time, that mine is the allegory of break. that mine is a cage. of empty escape. an unheld place. an upheld fix. with the drift each day, let us love again. like the weekend of songs, a month ago. erotic in lights. the scent of flesh and the feel of skin. long and lost. we have loved for seconds above. in sleep and day, in the monstrosity. i upheld your hand. lily vine. i write this trilogy. the heart rhyme trilogy. on the sand castle matinee.

petallion

sweet mustard rain. i smell your heel. you trill and frill. on saturday frocks. and the coquette dance of petals.

the dresser of heads. your finger prick. and garlic breath. picket and deal. the song to heal. the lioness of maladies.

reaper dove. unfurl your curl. and swing your arms. riot or dance. riot and dance. to the cause of cross.

cross of wombs. cross of shells. cross of the lust of taper vapor. twiddling thumbs on matisse. epoch and knock. hey beer beard. your belly swell. you died of death.

lover on the troll. park your car. and glaze the globe. with methadone drug. drug of poison. you said, right? the honey of apartheid befell.

periwinkle crown. fashion your breast. with the local gin. with poetry of sand. and verses of ice. fragile in crumbs. molten in wax. your temporariness remains.

chaser queen. do you not wear? or cry of disappointment. of an esoteric dream. humanity and man-ity. what man came? and whipped your ass. whipped your flesh. realize. there are wild takers.

party man. you read the times. check the clock. tick tick pock. and stop when you bloom. release the wings. of butterfly stains. nimble soft.

learn to cry. release the pain. in front of man. in front of front. behind they lay. on your bed and on your palm. drop of drops. flood the floor. stain the world. your loss is pain. express your hurt. your fear of lone. alone and drink. power of the brittle stars. finger lust. on dandelions. on battle grounds of dream machines. churn the sole of scarlet boombox playing wind songs from the ocean. ocean blues and bluegrass lemon. sour and caustic. the life we dive. vortex pricks. climb the wall of rings.

colorbook II

 

i am. the disoriented wire boat. the crumple of a mannequin boot. with a styro-foam heart. a paper tongue. a gelatin limb. floppy and prosaic. a neon carousel that spins and spins. like charcoal waves on wax. and pastel smoke from skin. i can see the tone. the hue of yellow sweat. let us begin with the description of the bizarre necrophiles. for when they war-ed and swore to guns. this is for you, waterland. this is for you, belly pearl of gin. this is for you, mademoiselle lust. you took the cloth. anchored your soul. and charged at a pedestal of recycling marble. re-cycle. cycle, re? again? how many times is enough? how many times does re-peat, jingle a chance? not one, not two, not a million dew stave notes. harmonizing in the orchestrated boiler tops. think of the harmony. a vegan avenue of the chaste notability. and vocal fallibility stringing in the name of pleasure giving puppetry. the time you pause and resonate the chip of the vaudeville rush. the adrenaline whore. the lay, dismembered barber who snips a dime. and labyrinthine, in the canvas of the painter, burns a kiss. a town house kiss. the outline of velvet machination. the dynamics of musculature. if god or time, created man. what need we say, the lips needed symmetry. a shape of thin and thick and pink and blush. a creative v on the soldered face. if god created man. in its form and shape. what created god in shape of the sapiens? a star of loom, let us spake? dear god, you must be human. you must look like the epitome of normalcy and have the breast? why the manhood ascribed? why the subordination of the thermal vagina? what chosen one, led manhood supremacy from the start. a strange occurrence or coincidence of this religious tale, or plethora of tales. why did the she. not rise to the temple of the lesbian canopy of the matriarch? and tell you. spray on your nails with a sparkle of gimmick. this means nothing of the power differential. the directionality has been set by a vacuum of maybes. the philosophy of the homosexual has thus risen to the space filler choreography of the hipster travesty. one and alone. born naked in permanence. we have chosen to civilize. nudism then, the law of life, becomes pulverized by law. berated by the classist hegemony. the aristocrat, and the patron of the design figurative. you must not, you shall not. all is thus the negative.

i want to say, self-express. when you talk and walk. this is expression you never knew. the slouch, the gait, the fidget, the smirk. they express the self. the architect of self-endeavor. ease-less and light. you slide behind the recreation of structure and matter. what matters, what does not. the fontaine of the free spirit, genetically craft. your nipple pierce. your scaffold breast. your painted sac. again, you re-create with paint, and the acceptability of bookmark expression. you plaster doll. so beautifully molded in the cast of haggard artificiality. one by one. the book of norms. the book of the archetype. the sonnet of the acceptables. perfunctory leisure. a wasted call of the naturalness that was to exist in the metamorphosis of the embryoids. differentiated and compartmentalized passivity, you are white, you are black. you are the african colored humanoid, ceaselessly surviving a rarefied expressionism. i will tell you, as the adult in the circuit, this is how you must express. and behave midst the other incongruous. we are in an institution you say. for you to survive and sustain, take on yourself a multiplicity of identities. the deep hormonal desirability, you burrow beneath the ground, in the name and case of expectant professionalism. in the name of self-expression, there is the sacrifice of the self. an irrational anachronism of events of adulthood and irreversibility. every minute of self-expression. lost to a pit of the denial vagaries. time and again, let me choose the particular that builds the ice castle anatomy.

in your wealth and shaven matrimony, there is no redemption of the who from the you. surreal chic and laundered man. give life to your soul.

crown country II

sit across. you hold a nail. you rock back. and forth. the purple air. swooshes. you are dis-abled. un-abled. cross tabled. cabled to a vestige of the village crown country. you are held. with sticks and bones. your manhood intact. essayed into a booklet of the disabled country. i want to know. crown country. how you feel. when you see a man skittle across the hallway. at a ballet ball. when you sit and foam. and the elegant twirls. in pink champagne. beseeching flesh. your eyelids droop. and dribble stones. juggle bubble. imagine, if you could juggle a parody of bullets. how sentimental. i cringe in a shadow forbearance. the uterus ring that gave you whims. that killed your nails. phony air. scooped and pressed on a mere particular. you disabled man. crown country vogue. let us pull your lips. and braid your toes. carve a babe from your biblical robe. for on the pedestal. of blood baptists. you lost patience. i want to ask. if you envy me. the totality of the human body. my generous limbs. and rubicund pinch. the motion of trills on instrument and lust. do you lust? maybe you do. do you blink? maybe you do. yet. what is this totality of the human body. what is the complete? who is to say. this is the epitome of creation. without flaw. or mistake. in evolution streaks. what is the meaning of the compounded differential. of the human man. of the human woe-man. who is to say. i am the un-disabled perfectness of the creation gods. or evolve? if every seam has its set of flaws. and flawless flaw is a continuum of jargon. this pageant then is a tattoo of who is less and who is more. who, in this continuum of denomination and trend, is less of the un-abled man. but. in your mind, i want to know. do you still feel an envy?

let's look at lust. and trickery of the flesh. vile resemblance of the animal tombs. leaping over the rational. it drives you mad. stiffens your blood. makes it flow to the cove of your puppet genitals. reason flings. the rational dips. you are now a strange animal. lust so strong. you cannot breathe. you want the touch. you want the breath. you want the saliva streaming down your mane. your neck line wet. your ravenous lust. like the vascularity of the play store demons. dilated lips. and dangerous tips. perched on bone. expressionless fruit. your pounding heart. racing at lust. those hormones swell. dart through the precipice of ruby red walls. you tremble at the flip of incoherent dreams. you want the violence then. who denies. the intensity of sex. an incongruous blandness, volatile at best. an unexpected preparedness. who teaches sex? this game of love? is it a game, you practice at best? get better with time? when on the time. curiosity piques. a vortex of imagery. and deviance. when does your thought. decide on time. this orifice of blood is for a carnal lust. a blood borne pleasure ball. rolling. and shrieking. and howling in pain. laced with a hint of love? when does your clock. bedded in your eyes. invisible yet real, to the chronicity of body-works. tell you the poem of the syncopic sex. it is time. you country man. you pepper dove. shed the gown of your abstinent saints. how biology did bend over is a misery of the vacuum. but you are free. with the release of the floods. orgasm of the dizzy cones. jarring and pounding. the beam balance caress from the monologue tales. yesterday, they cried in pleasure.

theater I

the tense of love. of the love borne scalpel. is unnerving. i get it. maybe. you sat by my side. and prayed. in the damp of the friday afternoon. i was in scrubs. munching a bone. and polished flesh. slow down. you said. or you will choke. i smiled at you. i need to return to surgery. my patient has no conscious. his chest spread. rolled up in drapes. tubing through his nose. hisses and puffs break the silence of the room. his lungs collapsed. machinery kings. the universal man. his chest exposed. i should go back. but you ask me to wait. you compliment my smile. and touch my hand. you wouldn't leave. will you be there tomorrow?

i don't know yet. my schedule. so volatile. you lower your head. and stare at my fork. speckled with brie. you pause again and say. my son will be there. his third time. i am scared. will you be there. and say a little prayer. for me? he fears his death. but smiles and laughs. at a dyslexic mother. a father that vanished. but i still wear my band. i never forgave. but i couldn't resist. a war hero. a warrior. he lost an arm. looking for home. he fled. and returned. and fled again. may be he is alive. i couldn't leave. i swore that day. i took an oath. i meant every word. in front of god. i held his hand and i made a promise. i cannot break. i cannot kiss another man. the taste, i cannot forget. nervous peppermint breath. so endearing. forty years ago.

you have a heart. pouring love. and honey and saccharine sentimentality. you carve another. every day. tremulous eyes and nervous lips. you wear your scrubs. a uniform. a calling. come, protect my dream. you don your cap. and seal your breath. a cloth mask strapped across your face. you cover your shoes. look at the mirror. you are ready. before you walk. in through the door. you freeze your world. up at the ceiling. you say a prayer. let them heal. i want to fight. till the last ounce of my capability. so that they live. this is more than a job. this evolution of life. you kill and live. and kill and live. a cyclic normalcy.

a theater district. of mannequin bones and analgesics. organ love. organic. the theater got its name. from the garbed actors. so sterile. you may not breathe. you may not touch. in dilemma of the arts. in this theater. the cast of flesh. in its monumental primacy. is before your own. you swivel not. in a cold january morning. when your diamond of nine. miscarried your paternity. you delivered then. this paradox. you live. and cry in the storm. or behind the doors. where no one sees. no one hears. taped in silence. the life of scrubs. in a dream theater. yours is a calling of life.

playbook

little playbook doll. you cursive curl. your honeydew salt. and fragrance of the night flesh. lingers on my tongue. a guzzling spray of melting saliva. dripping in a cave of the erotic checker. a finger tattoo of cruddy nail polish. and imitation rose. the lady at the bar. nestled in white. pregnant. and swollen. under the whir of a ceiling fan. rotating. in a magical symphony of electricity. and air. a stale green air from the coffee flames. a pube in pink. a probable italian. their fingers clasped. their lips caressed. her nipples raised. through the chiffon patisserie. the mustard on her hair. and sapphire eye balls. stare at the wall. it reads. patience. faith. les apiritifs et la mauresque. gitane in the jane. overlooking the waves of the twin city tinkle. the dangling lights nod in shame. at the hiss of a thousand silhouettes. of ballet leaves. semi-perched on cobbled walks. and artificial lash. dolled with tar and pastel pepper. black and gray and maniacal. frayed at the edges of a generous crochet. of golden pints and silver shoes. an etiquette of grains. we clink and toast. and smoothly tan. a silken crust of explicit overhaul. of berry charm and harmonica. a candle flick. a charming grope. and the swivel pops across the dark. dank. silhouette. of two collapsing bodies. in perfect harmony. wine and plastic. iron on a boat. in a trilogy of spiral dignity. man to man. man to woman. woman to woman. man-woman.

on your neck. he wore a lace bead. and dangling shoes. and a key. made of orange feather. you said. irene died in a pool. you ripped a plume. and glued to your flesh. the misery of death skidding on your chest. you couldn't bear. and so you went to the lake. and with your soul. you lit a flame. canopied shut. ladled with milk. you came in the wave. sperms afloat. it feels my cells. this proximity of fluid love. you could never feel on the pedestal of the intangible. little playbook doll. your color of rouge. the mascaraed breast. the pierced vagina. fold like paper. in a category of death you can never fill. a track of tunes. on your hair line. tattooed. you would say, music in my hair. my narcissism drapes. this is the symbol of injury.

you village girl. so sassy in sweat. the crimson gerbera atop your ear. so beautiful in the sunday breeze. by the piano-man and the swan lake. your gait, like soap. you bubble your love. and smile at the grass. where a saxophone sits. the brass. the rasp. the wooden deck. converge on the wrist of your violent corset. it is peach. and ribbed. and through the frame, i see your heart. dancing in the breeze. smiling at your eye. so light, like smoke. in a brilliant mosaic. a wild menagerie of beats and swirls. it twirls and twirls. and swings like pearls. and beats and breathes. and lives and sings. songs of life and songs of love. free from your breath. free from the strings of beating synchrony. free from the rivet of the jugular moons. the perpetual rhyme. the chime of the lisps. the lips of the garb. the cloak of physics. and dances in the wind. again and repeat. i love your mane. your childless womb. my strings are dead. the odor of liberty binds your tale. you libertine tongue. you rogue of peace. i am free. i am free. like cotton in space. in perfect vacuum. spotless. immobile. silent.

the married man. holds his hands. knotted bands. he married his self. in mind and soul. he is his. and his alone. winged man of the piers. little playbook doll. let me sketch your nails. and paint them white. for yours is the peace i seek.