

small favorsshe was half afraid of the house its squat screen door its back porch of windows like plaqued teethsmall favors
here, this is your rut, this rutting
she was afraid, fully of how the cold sunk into her soft white shoulders of the whistling click-track washable vinyl it was pain like the first time
she frequented the driveway, even so was the anti-meant-to-be was adhesive, transportation, big grin facade was hardly an even keel got slim with worry
is the house so scared? it cradles in its belly those piles of d


twine and roseshe wasn't aware (at first) of her very certain proclivitiestwine and roses
"let me, let me, let me..." she would say, sparkling and he would oblige
afterward, the broken both of them would lay replete his thumbs strange travelers along the moist coastlines of her eyes
oh, is this the tide come in? thank heavens.


when I was newthere's the doorbell ringing, an obscure front man singing it was just a lock and key - it wasn't me, it wasn't mewhen I was new
there were parallels that hit, too true sex and smooth segued
rarities to line the way behind your future
and all our grown-up days how patchwork I was,
how thick that liquored haze
guess it won't let loose, how you chose to turn the covers down and with whose voice did she
resound (in gut-punch vibrato with the lights out)?


a stutter of sentimentHow long its been, and how dire is this twist a stutter of sentiment
(still, its hard
to rush things.)
Im solid and sane and Im yours. dont you lean over? dont you much wonder?
Im pretty much pretty, much lately and Im, Im
Im wanting and waiting to show you, so...
I feel from somewhere that I need to come softly because both,
both are frightened and
either may scatter and once again become ghosts or holes
where ghosts
should rest.
| I am not the sum of the things I have not yet done, but I am the height of their possibilities. |