rhythm kisses slow slide
up a very little hickey
protection spells chipping
red dark’s darkness never made me
sit stillfully inout of knowin’ what’s
rhythm to me
love’s after me running
roses and silver
jewelry
too specific to be poetry?
too specific for you to
feel with me, bobble the
guillotine? who’s sayin’
tom foolery doesn’t have that
revolutionary rhythm
of
kissing
and being so
specific with you,
knowhatimean?
candles and crosses on the street
corn growin’ where cement should be’s
shuckin’ on 16th and mission recology,
youknowwhatimean?
ferry tea’s hot from oakland docks
to kadıköy. burnt my tongue lookin’ to
see a star fallin’
in muhammad’s green.
man, budapest’s supposed to be cheap
now i’m makin chicken paprikash with canned pinto
beans.
don’t kick it with me and talk philosophy, boy,
i don’t want to hear it. just hit me with a
minor g
linger in it, let g minor’s smoke blow out your nostrils
throw up all that nicotine and
push back our seats–
–yes, i’m a sensual being flying
on tactile string, tied to some angel
watchin’ over me.
kissing you is kissing me
over our seats
over cloud volumes
into something we receive,
love,
doyouknowwhatimean?
primary color (2025) love in the mystic | date flesh (II) | two a.m. rose water’s delirium | we euphoric verses going on and | hitting harmonics | so, | primary color | sitting in the green | philosophy is for the boys | all up in a mirror | bootleg tonkotsu ramen | huhummm crackling ready | something's gonna come around | date flesh (I) | pink | excellence