languidly lush loose leaf luxuries

she has a present coming
in the form of a shadow
on the wall, a pipe
at its lips.  he's smoking

his future away, but that's
just what she needs. calls
mom, packs the diaper bag,
shoves tears inside a term

that breaks the cycle, every
time. this is why she didn't want
to fall in love. the journey out
studded with heart cracking rocks

cracked dreams, crackheads.
how addiction explains so much
and nothing at all, how it's worse
than a drug cuz the supplier lives

inside, wielding a triune needle
filled with endorphins, adreneline
and hope.  but this time she carries
the antidote with eyes still
changing hue, on her hip.














*(^^^^



you play with the plastic red flower
 while i msoke and listen to birds
and snoring. the postulates
oppose and collide create
tension in the verge, this is sub
atomic theory/ a backlash of memory
colliding with now/





the dog is chubs. how do you do?
he whines in his cage but can't
come inside until he's bathed
and i will not bathe him.


black dress, stained with oatmeal
i've taken care of enough of your decisions.
still, it takes a village to raise a happy child
so yes, welcome to the village.
welcome home this is how
love operates,  please try to accept it
as it''s offered.



the dog pants in his cage
doesn't want to sit in the spilled
food but i didn't place food
in the crate. wind blows
but it's hot anyway, sub tropical
sun beats on the dirt, bleaching
it to dust. make some bones.


i picked up co creation
trying to thwart a tension point.
i wonder which postulate  wins that way?


in a footnote on lilith i found your nickname,
russian origin, a sprit riding night winds.
malevolent they say, but merely dis obediant.
is that evil? really? free will means
i can think of something which you have not.

or something like that.  the cornrows go untended.
weeds spring up in the cracks between the gravel.
the dog begins to eat his food, out of boredom
he wants to clean his own cage





























&*(*&&&&






tonight there's a couple in each room
a steak on the grill, sunset at a privatized
pool. you play kong to my shark,baby girl
crawls in the clouds while i swim ten
laps back and forth the long way.

if someone can touch you
you can feel the touch. if the wind
influences you in a delightful
fiction, i'd say go with it for a while.
it's like, your needle's floating in
an orange stripe that ripples
thru the electric blue pool
with each movement you make.

coming to grips, objectively, is a bit like
walking the last two inches in no heels.