versingWhen you first appeared in in denim and gray, faded and changing eyes shifting acrossversing
a dull landscape, I felt the surge of pulsating passions, curdled and suckled until they turned voracious, whining and biting, and I turned, as if drawn by sounds and
smells intertwined, strong and
sensual, wrapping around my middle to bring me to you,
but more than that, love, lover: you came to me to tell me you
were broken to place my palms atop your shoulders and move your arms and hands, crying between my breasts, soak
fleshI reach to touch: a caressflesh
skimming the skins of a memory, the fleshy underbelly of a
sweet stinging left to rot under July heat, it’s been so long since your face was beneath my palms, with my hands I take
in your beauty, your dull changing eyes and defiant mouth, the straight bridge our your nose and the
faint pulse of red.
too lateShe didn’t nag me a lot. She wasn’t the nagging type. She would do the things I asked her to do. She would wear the clothes I bought for her. She never complained. In a way, she was perfect. And I don’t mind being a thing. I don’t mind being a pretty thing because if you think about it most pretty things get treated nicely. So I’d rather be a pretty thing than an ugly person. Wouldn’t you?too late
But she was faking it, I could tell. Everything she was doing was phony. Right down to her sighs and moans. She was probably thinking about Jack the Ripper. I didn’t care at first, didn’
No Word Was a ShapeI tried to press the strings, to juice them like olives, fat on the trees and dripping with virginity, I pushed the palms of my fingers into those strings, thin,No Word Was a Shape
out of goat gut, pushed those wires and strained the music out of them, I tried to juice a prelude, but I couldn’t strain a scale, and all I had left were hands without calluses and thoughts without order.
I tried, to spin your words, delicate words, spoiled words, words like paper and hands and enflamed, infected mouths, wetly gaping open, into words of my o
Prism
--
electric
green
harps
YES!
and let's not forget the dreamers.
i want to see that again
[link]
theres a concert may 20th in irvine
--
--
Fly on little wing
--
electric
green
harps
YES!
--
Still, they keep launching blundering campaigns,
Trying their wings once more in hopeless flight:
Blind moths against the wires of window screens.
Anything. Anything for a fix of light.
-"Street Moths", XJ Kennedy
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