LUST CREAM AND DESIRE CRUST
Lust cream and desire crust–
Odilon Redon bust
I’ll admit to love when love amiss to me
because that’s when fear boils hot like stovetop modulations
I’ll emancipate my proclaimed right to gain if I know the less loss,
but I follow suite of a ghost who is a phantom of observation
no more amputated manuscripts to follow
or sweety candy to swallow
just,
lust cream and desire crust
would you dine with dynamite with the certainty of a fun evening ?
sob stories are as useless as wet chalk
I draw on your face wit wet fingers and you say something like “swlick”
I never conformed although I played in the arena,
play in the arena but I still don’t conform because I can’t
and I no no boundaries,
and there’s nothing erect like respect
my suede shoes are like–
explode
just explode all out, all around
like overnight seasoning in a Ziplock bag.
Drip drip drag smears of glow halos,
what is the rhetoric for retina squeeze ?
cook sea moss to a jelly and ride with it in the heavenmobile
dizzy feets memorabilia is what allowed me to moonwalk
over to–
Is it over two degrees when,
Is it over now ?
Is it over tomorrow ?
Is it over then ?
It it sorrow ?
Is it,
just lust cream and desire crust ?
A happy round smile
dipped in watercress brushes
piano atmos, to diagram blushes
PREPARATION FOR PHOTO CEREMONY, PRESIDENTIAL LIBRARY ST PETERSBURG
SMACK / HORSE CRAWL / ERROR BECOMES HER
SMACK
I took the day right in the eye
And clawed it into four walls
In the hours that fail at boredom
But body forth a net
Your bite featured
A birth place
Clicking through
To greet the floor
Smacking it out on that grease panel
Working up to bloom a threat
My hunger knuckle danced
Star-fuckery, blood heavy
Heaven, in your full-fat skull
HORSE CRAWL
It was shame that hoofed her first
And her heavy glass face
Crawling head fore into the carpet
Scattering night, small fires, etc.
The pattern of a human stain in November
Across the floor sat round cartoons of pride; bunnies
Bugs. Or legs dismembered
Yet as prop-poise
Women, they shine in pieces
Reclining nude without a drink
Aside from the one that hangs permanent inside the head
Making her jaw so obtuse
ERROR BECOMES HER
We beat the earth into the feet of dogs
By this, their skin was hardened artificially
Took their mobile phones and make-up places to be
We made them kneel on the floor, they had to drag themselves around like that
Their knees became the hard bases of their bodies
Because of their kneeling and it’s implications we had to discuss pronouns
She. Gross how it squats in the blood
We change the locks
There is a lot of guilt about what we have done to the dogs
In their shame we lost our bearings
Or our error became them
There are ghosts of the dog violence everywhere
We can no longer make love
For example:
I open my eyes when you are kissing me and you look full of trust like a dog
