surfing madness in the wake of erotic boating
writing
mad poems
squeezing
broken parted fingers
together
finding how night
folds
the holy fury of a day’s
slow
dissolve hinging symphonies
gathering
the turn songs of seed birds
who
branch the quiet tide of an eating Moon
they
know She knows the forge of metals
into
the black of crow feathers
bellying
up the bar
West
of Nod, East of Eden
wane-pulling
salt sewing sulphur into dragons
sleeping
close enough to dreams
to
smell your way back to every coalesce
every
fit frenzy mathematics
every
electric rail of thoughts
with
missing chain links peddling
why
into a further and I am crawling again
sliding
my hands to sin along your legs
I
am straddling you a deep forest lean
a
Summer’s coronation
as
the words are wet-claying themselves
cupping
our ache rhythms
moving
my lips like thirsty rain
behind
the wheel of a soul’s
drive
into another
I
always keep the windows open
to
scent the light
to
find your hands
reaching
back to me
an
open key crumble kept waiting
for
the remains of a day strewn
about
the scatter shadows
beneath
the trees
this
is where clocks birth time
in
the spun form cake of hearts
beating
close enough to bend knees
as
eager as a weaned wolf pup hungry
and
burning for the roam
wading
approval with a small kill
in
its mouth down ears squinting
the
Sun’s memory rising in a howl
the
dark is a fertile place
that
speaks the deepest fleeting language
we
ever could compose
a
poem or utter a word with
and
upon the bent fingers
or
mutter mumbles
the
poet stumbles
and
the poem is gone
another
eaten part of the Moon
sample
simple bleed fabric blues
twirling
fantastic spaghetti fork and spoon
the
world is a incubator of gravity’s desire
to
shape what a soul can smell
when
surrendering
when
succulent
when
salivating
when
can I stop myself
from
biting through the skin
on
your shoulder
I
am unrepentant
I
want more
I
slide my hands up
slowly
grab your waist
my
engine full of Romulus intent
in
the clung ferocity of dark
in
the short story between Dusk and Dawn
I
am blind but honest here
wanting to be so close
to the edge of impermanence
that
I fear I will be mistook for a clever crook
as
I unhook your bra and cup each breast
kissing
your spine
as
if I were born to do that
stanza
by stanza
in
breathless crescendo
poco
a poco stuffing dreamt memory
to
feast on when alone
or
having fallen back asleep
in
the thickening limbs
between
right now and
where every scent of you
lingers
to stop time
articulating
every word
the
poet sees fit to sever
the
pulse of technology
that
de-magnetizes his soul
and
steals sugar like I am along your skin
without
the spread charm of vines
or
lines that one by one climb home
becomes
another poem
you show me ripe
say to come get me every June
tune
a spill velocity by threading two pieces
of
something of anything chemically reactive
like
Love is when seed wrapped
in
an infinitesimally expanding Universe
that
matches the way we heave ribcage melodies
playing
songs that shepherds might
when
travelling hill and dales
following
the cascade of the stars’
mythological
cardinal sweet sung fire
against
the lush space between your black lace
and
my undoing in a circle of salt
and
coal ash along the garden wall
during
Summer’s feast
sate
lightning in the clouds
the
gathered fogs
bleeding
everywhere mad poems do
exits
entrances painted doors
wormhole
diets skip jumping
each
kind of death
commemorated
on a coin
in
the jukebox
the
familiars in the songs
say
to me keep on moving
don’t
stop til you get there
remind
yourself that you never get there
and
keep moving
brigade
the turn story of the seasons
wait
to eat the afterbirth
in
the twilight, pines tipping, maples bowed
all
belly for the amniosis
the
genesis of riding freewill
as
far as the rubber will burn
and
then you crawl for all your worth
in
mad poem currency
no
rules, pure want, pure lust
even
dust is slowing down but moving still
knowing
the words of falling petals
and
broken eggshell cities
coagulate
the unzipping of the mechanical world
self-portaiting
the kingdoms of glimpses
mad
poems bare throats and aisle divides
that
want as simply as my mouth
and
tongue want words
or
the sweet ripe of your hands
on
my head and your hips
raising
the dead saying keep on moving
don’t
stop until you get me there
because
poet you are between the horns
and
not too late, you have gotten in
to
wear surrender
to
kneel finger slide
on
a string pulling close
tonguing
the brass ring
the
roil the boil the simmer-hiss mount kiss
after
kiss flick the shade light comes in fast
and
earnest
with
you I am undressed
to the raw parts of my soul
here
turning salt into rain again too
sodium
carbon
hydrogen
and
yearn
the
gasp lines
the
willingness to do anything
you
ask when you hold me
between
your legs
and
ideas no longer matter
as
much being here
inside
a moment caught
and
captured as if we
were
only jarring fireflies all along
the
songs, the thongs, the prongs of madness
sharp
sweets and washing feet
with
scented poems and sleight of hand
my
humanity is a dangerous kite
in
your eyes skeleton keys dangling
in
charged particles and you
the
quiver tremble thinning of everything walled
you
that rides me into ecstasy and agony
finding
the poems and grinding
the
madness sunrise to sunset
I
get the fact that I am mad
but
what I don’t get is how surrender
ties
and unties together what we
tell
clocks to take their hands off
when
the ease to please someone
can
stop time
like
your breathless whisper
does
to me
in
the dark
EJR
©
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