giving is not a day at the bargain counter

freedom is: no fear

body into all full of the world

may I feather into such a swan soon

tree of life in the state of decay & rebirth

in vain I grow my little days

I splintered, full of arrogance

the moth would sail along, an unkillable witch

in the hush, they offered up their x-love

I was a super hot, super dense sky

two heads really are better than one yes: yes.

she was a beautiful boy and tears boy

still makes a poem a surprise!

every image is an offering

if god spat in your eye

I wish to reclaim the rising

peach blossom: the color of divine love

before we perfect the hustle

you put one hand under me

wrestling with (my God!) my God

for loneliness, I keep a stone to kiss

save your soul and a few others

at least as alive as the vulgar

lands of azania

opening tombs between the heart

the dead, the dancers, and the air

what a journey this life is!

yes I will bless

just call it horizon & you’ll never reach it

a place to garden

no matter the pull toward brink

mother lace weaver drumming her web

a wall cleared of nails

what once was, still is, but isn't

Words! be sick as I am sick

I made you and take you made into me

make a rope out of the ashes

watch them become the moons

if, again, I have a chance to meet

tied not bound

cities I called home

bottling the knowledge

I too had had dreams of revolution

transatlantic passenger

what a residency be?

what a waste of belgian linen

13 angels standing guard

in the world I dream of, it's easy

resolved over time, here with their residues

hand movie

defense at the back & mobility at the front

please write in whatever you find lacking

to wait in the water

laughter that has no lungs behind it

the animal itself is the decoy

managing as thin light on water

an ethical piqué manège

a gesture of love may be found

a voice I don't think I could possibly leave

if all I am (am I all?)

you left the fucking wheelbarrow out

sick time is non-compliant

only burning palaces

an undercurrent that also reveals me

hand on my stupid heart

we will all laugh at gilded butterflies

lazy gal (bars)

we carve the old motifs on curtain boxes

whatever we must survive

it's a rainy day on the cosmic shore

a genre-less ocean

calculus & narrative & reckoning

violence of perceived neutrality & objectivity

when change finally comes?

slow dance / old melody / sunset village

near thing / pulsebeat

death becomes her

long overdue eruptions

courageous machine to fight every day

fallen angel

the transaction of dream and return

living (weird, visceral) performances

shirking, idleness & strike

every image is an offering

such a stone is called a holy hole

really, it is full of beauty and illusions

the faggots' fantasies create play

is sediment sentient?

many witnesses testify to the facts of a case

kiss kiss evol bathroom

instructions for idleness

in a continuous movement I pass on the light

I wish I were a wave

build the language you will live in

myself as an intellectual revolutionary

born for love & nothing more

that stone gave me a poem

who would we be without our memories

to inhabit not being and not having

in a primrose yellow bathing costume

togethering

crop & fire

they appeared thankless, without jobs

left to themselves people grow their hair

who's that behind the delicious monster?

every prayer card I had in my house

no object, no story

without compromising functionality