To write, is . .
Like random twilights of dust
So distant, only God could see
Yesteryears, my love
And yesterwants
Daylight
Knocking darkness
Out of nights
Even in these shadows
Truthfully speaking
I prefer daylight
The hardest
Next Train . .
I am adapting
Cowardly, but adapting
This is distinction
Between surviving
And existence
Poetry
My mercy
A need to substitute
My mouth, for a dream
Different homes
Pincushions for doorknobs
Damnit I love you
‘Brightness Of My Dark’
One must be blind
Stripping God of its own light
Things none of us could be
The profound luster in lines
It’s happening to me
A wound, too echo’d to reveal
That love is not found in days
Notes . .
A writer sometimes retains only those poems that find no place. A strange ineffable experience of the mind, its enormous success of self love.
I rush I run
Almost fierce
Cannot be
Until Am is Am
My very veins
In its desire to be
Love Overmuch
Tigers brilliantly move
Bright limbs of mortals
Overpowered and mute
Utmost – love
No more still
Than your tongue’d speech
To be broken . .
Fight for insight
God’s copyright
In this interior of light
My signature becomes
A wrath that requires no reason
Almost . .
Forgot
How still
Your mind is
This is not
A compliment
It’s rhetoric,
It chokes
The good parts of me
‘in no particular order’
Hang over my feet
Like lousy flowers
That love just like me
Edge of Time
Thought
Much less
of me
Flask-less-ly
You waited
Like spirits
Hanging over
For The Love of Blue
Veils of what I’ve done wrong
Night’Comes
Covers us in blue
In the instant
Of this instant
Memory invents
Another present
A circular courtyard
With superstitious
Flashes of light
Intended to cover
Every crack in our horizon
Mimic
The eternities of a second
My whole life to solve
Pitiless searches for a body
To grow old with
Nameless sensations
Such a cruel thing
To miss the dead
With this immeasurable clarity
Like gravid drops of hope
Spinning over itself
Tirelessly, till we learn
How to love, again . .
Must’ve been me •
Untimely
The furthest of reaches
Sex seal serpentines
These syllogisms
Transform me
Inside is outside
It is everywhere
And nowhere
Invented
Devoured
– Man
Nobody Knows
We live in identical rooms
We blankly wake, we greet
From one balcony to another
Successively for a hundred years
Between now and tomorrow
We will spend the rest of our days
Growing gardens out of angry stars
We Grind our Teeth
Like birds
With a grape to blame . .
His Heart
Immune to mine
Interiors of gray matter
Granular minerals
Sleepy-colors
Obsolete to some
– Love
Untitled
Love clamps itself
Leaving small gaps
With just enough spaces
Allowing you to taste
Your very own tongue
Lessness
Communicate
A little more
Than twice
Like syllables
Gain enormousness
Looking for us
In the middle
Of the night
Táctil
There’s no such thing
As neatness
When it comes
To our minds
I breath
You flicker
Incalculable
Of course . .
L’absente
Tried to draw the sound of you
All I found was a flying crate
Overused’Spaces
Collide like us
Like they
Like me
And we
Virtue
Solid line
Straight shooter
Surrounded by time
Jan 11, 2020
Chucks bar
Scattered me
I long to be something
Stronger
Than a woman
Who once loved you
To me,
the world spins
ready to loose, and peal
comparable to a star
proudly moving through water
there is no equal, more beautiful
than her roseness at my feet
i admit here, i seek shelter
a shelter of brightness
when most of my most, is dark
cross high and unstrange
Arrows 
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