A naked and stellar light slips into the stream – ankles wrists everything joining – the synthetic dance of determinate distance – seeping under the cracks of doors – finding a home in open sleeping mouths

Return to the sensibility we were holding – a glass whose stem we’re both wrapping fingers around – and yeah waves of excitement – flooding while etching new sweetnesses to lay into the pattern –

Covered by you – writing by you – trying to hold the amplified breath of you – those sounds sent straight through to my inner head heart complex –…

Grateful to have you roar back into my head – the distance shaved by reflection – so absorbed while taking it in –

and not giving up any breath – attempting a slow circumnavigation – or a flood of pure interlocutor bliss –

the cacophonies of mourning shredded a little more – a new Image-repertoire erecting the lines dropped to the side

and imagination fuels this night sun – pale orange gibbous – relinquishing startled variations on the lines

between the stars — while musings on mariners take the constellations back into form — quick checks on Ursa Major —…

I brought myself to the point of remaking the bed – this is what I do when I am not shouting down the fucking robins – trying to invade my house –

I slipped and managed to scuff everything with careless dirty shoes – ideas form protective hedges for themselves –

Eager to avoid the backlash of sheet corners-but I didn’t know it had been left so long – I just thought some enervated alchemist was

Doing something to change the very structure of the bed –

Yes it still groans in the right places – knows how to behave…

Three monstrous syllables – already programmed towards the error – and yet I like the fucking rhythm

the additional “s” to begin – to end – set up a mad shrine right in the middle of Stephen St –

trio that lifts an ordinary dialogue – fictional confetti – the great groaning of so many prayers – not all of them sexual –

– inclination mused into the concentric feel of the brain chewing on certain words –

certain words that insist on the dress pulled back on – the shoes replaced on bare feet –

a kind of warmth…

It’s left the sidewalk
alone now
probably a few hours ago
already
it’s twenty to 2 a.m.

overlaying scent is
the manure air
the absent heat
the smells of cooking from dinner
or something

with grass and
trees
added — or already there
but overwhelmed anyway
by

Phaethonic undoing

and maybe
that’s what’s happening
again

Slow crawl through the muse image — inadequate portraiture — the slant of unrelenting sun on the eucalyptus and you — whatever mysteries are beneath fragile dances towards a beautiful distinction — split differentiation with a new mingle — and the shy synthesis begins to…

My darling you make the air fairly shake — ridges of skin appearing from a world away — spending the touch over distance — letting the dripping consciousness

wade through the walls and thin ceilings with inadequate insulation — that shift with combined summer-winter winds — a coming passion still already here

shot through by Barthes — angoisse and similar flights revelatory in their briefness — still too much to hold — skin silences brush with loving minds — determined to breathe

sucking residual moisture with relish

I have weaved you into the brain — yes, and indelibly so —…