crawlersout

sea water's flowing from the
middle of my thighs
wild buffalo are dancing on
cliff tops in the skies
adorn me in feathers from
dead birds
contemplate the size
of leather pelts to
wind me in put
shudders on my eyes
write it down
the names and dates of the daughters
who bore out of me like
grandmother's vines
they hang from the planks
of my cedar grave grow
pretty long lashes and beards
guarding the rain of me from them
heedless trampling toes
gathering honeybees in their
sockets and creases and holes
they'll cover the hills with their
sweet flesh and soft nails
they'll cover the doors with the screams
that their minds dispose
they'll weave their long souls
into the frame
to grow their foliage in
sew their long hairs
into their beds
to keep them crawlers out

ungirthed

the scent of my hands is familiar
to fosterly men in their coats
who guard not their spirits from fire
who speak with some tenderly coax
the tinge of my eyes is familiar
to fosterly men in their coats
who fiend close to their closetly homes
and ruminate the walls up with ghosts
ears ring and teeth click and
the dust off my knuckles familiar
to culminated piles of bones
that shift when the earth quakes and trembles
and quarries men up to their thrones
the air is familiar the sound is not still
dead voices cover their moats
thy fill the cloth totes with
the rustles of earth
and the crying detritioning bones
and the ladies that they have ungirthed

amenamy

somberly, somberly
linger lie longerly
grateful our cold memories cry
for the plentiful times that
her eagerly death hath had
counter intuitive underride
clean thy sparkling teeth
brush down they sparkling sides
that thy nervous blood
would become undone from
impedious pounding ideas
some shattering fawn
for this candented dawn
pluck up them worm holes and give them
to feeders that spirits be freer and
broil and toil and foil thy
scalloped breastbone
roll and toll and fold
the long winter in it
think not what the season'll become
reap fruitfully of the gardendom
that grew masterfully over your
withering son
beat out them bed bugs
stand when you do it

cartographist

we'll bathe often in light of the moon
we'll sew clothes from the stem of our womb
oh my sweet fairy the past is strong
touch not my bosom for I'll not get far
color your cartography in your dreams of me
maps will not lie in me
grow into gardens
the caverns you found in me
heal off the weightless
you held from the start of me
oh my sweet fairy our hearts did us wrong
but rudders of body's doth carry us on
and more moons than our eyes can
recount and store
yet they bid that we see the same things
sweet they bid that we swim in their seas

belispeak

grandma my sleep is narrow
bid you bring me some strong drink
strain out the pulps and set them close outside
for when my little belly speaks
grandma there's air beneath my bed
and it whispers when I rest
bid hem the skirts in salt and vinegar
and hover closely under head
grandma my hands have wandered
and my little legs are getting weak
bid lend me your wispy frame
and guard my precious powers in it's cage
grandma I've been unruly
in my dreams and with my sleep
drill little holes into my eyelids
that I might see you when I sleep
grandma the water is rising
my boundless hair has gotten green
I'll be your swimming forest island
bid you walk safely over me

saltkin

sleep is a welcome gadget
in our headbondhood
the crawling animals will seek
all things warm all things moist
I will relentlessly shame myself
in rest in wake in front of
my truly born beloved
for here I lie in wait
hush little heart
steal my sweating lips
wield my starving hips
there's a cult inside of me
form a salt sprinkle it around me
the creeper's blood is seeping
from this undead wooden headboard
varnish my forehead red in evening
drip down over my jowls
bid them writhe and sprout their
heavy feathers lift my drooping heart
into a bright bound sea surrounded fury
our bodies will return
there's a cult inside of me
form a salt sprinkle it around me

obedear

I came down over
the sleepy mountains where
our wide toes plunged into
the weeping shale to tear our
skin up off from the bottom
leaves our ankles bare
don't just wander back and forth
and leave it
build it into pinnacles and shrines of some
some ghastly predicament of mine you'll find
leaves us plastered
to a bed of hairs with
me all coiled up near the bottom
with my chest unbeared
oh but dear the sky is low
gather up it's harm
in gauze with grateful arms
oh but dear the sky is low watch
fluent sea men rig their rudders so they'll
graze it with their wind arrows
tis in the fathoms that
they brush below
that we lie with our eyes and sides in tow tis
in this warm and monious water that I
flow and grow and sow
I'm hear the birds wings squeak
salt salt salt and lemons drop
from the spaces in their flings
oh my dreams come back to me
oh my wrinkles build on me

lofticries

green green thunder and the
loud loud rain
lead our woes asunder
neath the proud proud veins
of trains let bleed the gunmen of our
pumping earthly hearts
wean our joys and plunder
peel our shining teeth
bid our hold on happiness
beat weighty tests with lofty cries
lofty cries with trembling thighs
weepy chests with weepy sighs
weepy skin with trembling thighs
you must be hovering over yourself
watching us drip on each other's sides
dear brother collect all the liquids off
of the floor
use your oily fingers
make a paste
let it form
let it seep through your sockets and ears
into your precious ruptured skull
let it seep let it keep you from us
patiently heal you
patiently unreel you

grandloves

take all the little things away
seek all the dimensions that stray
from my eyes
dig holes in me with wooden carved trowels
hold still in me the hops
that left it's guard down
I'll grow bitters on the borders of your whistling skin
I'll sew pockets of the locks that fall from your bristling chin
keep all my secrets in the trinkets
dangling from the walls
take what you are make it sacramental
brew you a warm drink out of
my tattered hulls
build you thick paper out of
my clumsy skull
soundly discreet make
your bouldering shoulders glow
my grand loves
I'll not finish what I done started
I'll stake rare toothpicks in my dirt filled heart
meander the sacred lot of you
in every season
my sacred pining whims
my sacred vining whims

fineshrine

get a little closer let fold
cut open my sternum and pull
my little ribs around you
the lungs of me be crowns over you
get a little closer let fold
cut open my sternum and pull
my little ribs around you
the rungs of me be under under you
I'll cut the soft pockets let bleed
over the rocky cliffs that you leave
to peer over and not forget what feet are
splitting threads of thunder over me
that I might see with my chest and sink
into the edges round you
into the lakes of quarry's that brink
on all the edges round you
listen closely closely to the floor
emitting all it's graces through the pores
you make a fine shrine in me
you build a fine shrine in me

breathe this air

I wake and I miss the sea
walk and I miss the ether
sleep and I wish for not a thing at all
but the rest that will take me
which of these things mother
will give a dustless age
for none of them ours or will be
but they will give and find need
the sea the air the earth
or not a thing at all

25 bucks

I'll not get old
if I dig with my knees
if I grind down my teeth
I know from the attic of me
from the bottoms of pleas
from the waywarded seas
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