We have 3 large organic free-range dreams and you say take me, the way you objectifycinnamon spinning in a glass ofwater, we core and dice the baby. No baby, the core of listening and curry. Afterwards we add 1 teaspoon and strip to the less of books, we erase, tastes of whitening cream. Your hands draw your unbuttoned blouse, clear lips. And it is there, 3/4 cups of organic my god is a vegan army awareness sports team. We extract 1 pan, if you prefer vanilla, hip talks without text, spice handguns, I blush, a red scarf as you.


humidity craves a cold apple, between
sometimes, the red door of a chicken hutch
stunned, blue bottle hums of magnolias
sometimes, she is a homeless painter of thirty foot tall flames armed in kitchens she hates cleaning
sometimes, they are turn backed beams of moons of constants
of shifts
in trees

red flamingos

I cant tell what her tattoo is, sugar coated psyche something flaming or other
ask her to make you (something
a sweet grandfather
red flamingos blending harmonicas​​​a new piece)
snow she makes it out of glass with orange trucker sun glasses and socks
they make love on a mini couch
aesthetic affiliation, cusp of negatives

[It’s not a love story if you only write the songs]

We angle down an alley at 3:00 am. There are five of them; young laughing one comes to me crouched with his arms stretched. Steps forward, picks me up by my thighs and twirls, around playful I laugh stop. He says something in Korean with a heart just kidding grins, sets me down. We laugh run away


[if anything it makes those feel a tad trite]

The mixed tape / friend first crush. Not everything beautiful / clutter with me rest of my life and plays a song for me. Probably / the smoker who does a coke shot on her own and falls in love with a sweet. Life is not a poem right? It’s what the world has been telling me for a long time.


[like the relationships I have with my blood]

I’ll just tell that to my imaginary. Friend and call it all coincidence. Like the time Chilies turned into a fist match in the car and I walked five miles home in flip flops. Dropped off across from the massacre theater. Imaginary friends, I didn’t have them then.


(a brain injury deal) just fucked) fakes I’m a paranoid bitch (cold fearful saint (I never knew lakes to be so accurate and uncomfortable


[god I hate bras]

Listen to a way to break down the uncomfortable. Nope it was the wasted redhead; she wants to be brunette. Self-awareness garage sales are the story of two little boy wolves and suicide. Honestly though, she objectifies me. What’s the balance I just want Mac stick blond on blond little fingers the song record hoop earrings noted customers in pink attitude and socks. I took the morning off the issue numbered my soul dipped in green drop earrings.


[we lived in a marina and made laundry and flower pots out of logs]

I was soaked. Had swam in shoes there but gotten my comforter and didn’t want to get it wet. He was carrying another identical, one that was much smaller and more expensive. He started talking to me and rubber tubes the kinds one gets when they are dying started drowning out of his mouth. He couldn’t keep them in so he tried to swallow them. His face turned into a scull held together with rubber bands you get at the dentist a machine of rubber holding his face together. He said apologies and that he had just slipped on some tuna outside.


(inner monologue shift (his head back and forth) to look away he discusses swimming in tennis shoes (he writes me and says if we keep winning games) will you promise to be ridiculous? The right dock had to ask a man at a storage unit to cross because they were located in a bridge across the water.

outside the sun

a crocheted heart happens in oleander


fury of you, forgets the stray brush of tipped fingers

I certainly can’t if you could forget as in the moment of pace

between glass

black now bloodless links of a bathroom break patch work in juke forts and dirty teams

your body with my body the numbers the shade of rocks lucent now, the silver summer bonnet in your scarf


we make or match the balance of a whole, trees because they have jaws

extract preferring to watch the day of yours where the muscle lies in normal clothes dressed in a tie

a fucking wish and a poem, white because of drums

the letter is a small footnote fang in a fence with legs

curled to the left bone

boiled because it is tired of hardening

the one whos doing everything

misspell moist menthe, the way bodies

could upset

this forgetting

calms everything else into place

I want to apologize for the reason more seductive

how may I ask is food racist

brass typefaces

my tea, back against the him paging yellow notes of another’s hand writing

preserves hums

the wet oil wound wings of lovely laundry baskets dark chocolate stones, partly pink her belief, of palms kneading jars, into me how does he massage different at all

I cried for that

in the leather of a blue dress

tradition of a sunday                                clockwork orange made

afternoon snows, open and close

bowls of a plain tree, shy, puttering, as white as married bottles of lists                 of anybody’s guess, he holds them

he passes her broth

shade shakes the roofs a virtue in kelp

in the winter

a broad dreams about forehead acupuncture and a g.i. tract

who’d look at who else would it be. is not a question (if I ask his invitation:

what one sees is where the writing begins


sexy twice rice

two half breast browns and base

.                                                                                                               because saving daylight, holds

at the heart the two of us high drive nowhere because you know I’m waiting for my nails to dry


of river bedded washed color, sketch presents under the bed


the pink killer motion of stray cats turns to

what the dream note shows: normal is 200 logos it noise. I got along great with my coworkers and had the best frothy soy latte


because placed at the heart of the emotional coincidence is

my reference to normalness plain shit, snow

with , in addition to elephants


he’s still beautiful

friends don’t forget to vote

what would it be otherwise, I’ll still say fuck