Daily Archives: September 1, 2020


MY heart open:
to give my treasure to you
my tiny world of a forever
summitless peak until i heard
my soul singing along with a bird
: a chorus as wide and long as
the greatest desert; as nothing like
the joys of that voice!
i eat the flames of heat and taste
the dry sands of the Sahara Desert —
dreaming of grass and rains (all are

:: 08.31.2020 ::


MY heart and mouth so full and loaded
my poor mind dribbles at the brain stem
— caporal! women squirt love and gleem
within eyes (no dirty words) under the
full pregnant moon and marshy land
i felt this gift — such a blessed
single laugh, my poor mind dribbles
at the stern of my spine___
in the night time we go
so entertained by o abracadantic waves
so hello hello! so lewd, so ithyphallic,
a wheelhouse a whorehouse a heavenly
undeniable pleasure of corrupted pleasure.
i ask the porcelain woman to take
my hands Bacchic hiccups and her slim hips
i swallow my heart inside pleasure
she is over me and assured as all i know;
heaving and thrusts of love and meaning.

:: 08.31.2020 ::


i would sink if the moon left these shores!  picture of myself,
bright floods!  seeking shadowed roads.  Of yellow and green
cellophane hearts –into the willows of an old courtyard.
   O my dying quiet hearts of arts and words of black dog,
brown shepherd hungry formasters — bitter peaches upon the ground : 
while sulfur and evil drown in shallow swims.
Oh but Lord!  through amaranths and Sahara blues as fire and creepers
seep through the widow’s cage!   i walked Guianan without shoes
and flew through the ducal window on such a moonlight as the blessed bindweed. 
Across ages of time and hordes cross our aged Europe.
Every soul crosses the moors — all warriors!

:: 08.31.2020 ::


Shinning through the skies & of nothing particular continually towards the dark azure, where minds and hearts shimmer __
eats souls and young hearts in your young evening
— the tulips, all colors and a pessaries of ectasy!

i said hello, when the weather was wet and tight
for their living; the lily dring pink loathings
from your lonely mouth!

Monsieur de Kerdrel’s fleur-de-lys

i screamed into the night and heard no thing
love crosses through customs ; your purple
bra bathe, swells in the morning breeze

— as a painter i painted roses as your
vagina / swollen with a thousand octaves!
i am the son and the heir of a criminal
heart of lust and soul — you shut your mouth
taking of blue lotuses or sunflowers,
pint footprints of basset-hounds in moon’s
silver twilight;

 oh, shiny vulgar sex object-man:

i go about things the wrong way —
dickinson window stanz form;
following young girls making communion!

i pull the weeds and the old greenery,
standing upon their own — they go home
and want to die. pulling vegetable fancy
flowers — forsaking cock-‘d men;
and old gallons — not rattlesnakes.

just vegetable dolls.

:: 08.31.2020 ::