whistle

did you know me as sampson
the locks between scissor/ appalachian*

sting the knees, or kiss me where i hurt,
your ache gave to me; a random gravel--

lesson from who you never, less
sweet on the after, catch home in a shipswind.

at least the last length i feel, at-last
you measure. a bow in my off hand for the hunt.

i'm gonna go spit in y'r eye
for an eye,
i'm gonna eat the rest of y'r--
i'm gonna papa bear,
i'm gonna mama bear,
i'm gonna baby you through jr high.
i'm gonna file for a tax extension,
i'm gonna delete that email
about penis extension,
i'm gonna.
i'm gonna put this ring around your
rosie,
i'm gonna sing you
a song to sing,
i'm gonna leave the oven on,
i'm gonna tell you when to turn,

nod

you call it thin ankles in trees
bend the branch or, trunk to heel,

i sleep with my arm around your--
measuring the eyes by eyes, see.

you might notice that i am indifferent
unless i am intoxicated, or in love.

my bed on this side or, your bed over there;
i can see you with my eyes closed.

you mention there is this point, that
becomes another & so on, talking,
while your hands move about.

word of mouth

old bones in the morning, creek run
tells a finger, scratch sleep from y'r beard

never let the water; never let it
grow the swelling wood ten times, larger

tooth & bloated tongue, you need that drink
to keep saying what you hope--

watch your scalp run out, by
the torrent of hand-grabs, a flea

marked by the gravy, no that's deeper
takes your baby & names it godawful
to keep the music turned down enough.

wipe

going to mug your smug mug.

hardest part of hittin' them,
make the spider spin my speak

dig shallow holes for the seeds
mark them with hand broke twig'

i can ride a horse,
i learned how in my dreams.

description

so where your seem sews so
i neck the hip of your hip-bone

a rhythm bud nipple unnipped
for a suckle or suckling nub.

at a glance to the spot i spotted
mouth over, over the place

stress over each hair follicle
drug over the nerves in my teeth

fire escape

pleasantly reminded of the meat on your bones,
i take swelled bites of the nodding neck.

you call me, say wanderer in farmer form,
always aware of my chaucered tone.

abbreviated speech from the speaking teeth,
lick my wounds with a silent tongue.

i grab for white powder, or the novacaine hose,
filter whats left in the urn down a drain.

there are no more homes where i used to be born
somwhere upstream i made a wrong turn
& your rocks gashed the bottom of my boat.

a date

i caught you helpless in the chair or
i saw you naked on your porch or
i made you breakfast or
i washed your back with a sponge or
i showed you where the attic was or
i bit your finger tips or
i took you home before dark or

bird

put a hawk by your teeth while he knew
where to wear you,
rich for the feather,
caw you mother, say your name.

red tail chicken comes down from
the sky,
snatch up your day
in it's basket.

lowering the level of the lights

savior

i try to exist, to burn these eyebrows,
edit where you were born, or
how tall are the bones in your arms.

skin is a fur hide, shady dealers
lend me their ears--

a man is there,
he watches with the light on
as you take off your dress,
& this is why he says he loves you.

postcard with a picture of some random
art museum.
i hate when i know these things.

poems

digest you from the neck up to the upper neck,
maybe see what i can see when i'm seeing you.

write poems about people i am no longer in love with,
write poems, & poems about you.

a poem about turkeys

marred in the arms where they mar,
take these turkeys to market.

take these turkeys by the arm,
they don't know where the brass comes--

sure i have two eyes to eye them
or i, two eyes to spare

seldom my shoulders support the earth,
or the globe i lay on supports the air.

these turkeys will know where i met them,
or in the next life where we meet,
remember i met them there.

thus marking the dawn of the video game age

tutsi a hutu, sans black face on tutu.
burundi too soon they will shake you for money
so many got caught, lit up on my birthday.

absurdity in death, a jest

we move because we are going, too
much distance for a vast universe

expands between your mouth &
the thing that makes your mouth--

move down a line for years, say
these are years in definite.

i am partial, because my mother or
my father can screw.

going somewhere with this,
i will always be going somewhere,
with this.

story

a story you call a poem where there are gods
in one hand, but nothing in the other.

we clap a lot to encourage, look at these
apes, slapping their right to left. how smart

are we to notice. my aunt knows our president
is a muslim because it matters to her. she's scared.

but this poem isn't about my scared aunt.
it's about numerous gods who tell us things in our sleep.

fuzz

smell my skin to keep from
vomiting. weaker than i say i am.

your heads a numb one, but your
fingers will find where to go.