Fog samba

 

fog-w-people

Take me on
with the jingle jangle of my ankles
wearing my bangles as we dance
through the gray Jell-O nights
sucking down
lazy Sunday lattés
in a Laffy Taffy hammock
Every worn dream
being replaced, by
shiny new ocean-view vistas
and you
keeping me closer
than
paint on walls

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discordant

how is it that you
(in your calm solitude)
are aroused by
a rising tide of thoughts
excited by savage
and succulent delights

how does restlessness
come so quickly
[within] you, that can
skirt past fires of fancy
(your) indulgent red flames
of an inner feast

I remember you
and all the stony feelings
the depths of envy
(I am astonished)
how you come to me
in the midst
of your burning

fireworks of the heart
that were never tempered
(I have seen you)
spoil’d at last

maybe now I can sleep

 

I am okay
small in my why and who
I believe the you
nothing tasks passion like space
it is late
you being the night
to completely have way
my painted bath of taken looks
for anyone who has their due
you are out and I am listening
about traces
authors knock moments
an ordinary mood
to men putting mostly nothing
knock him
don’t you do it
several doors
you another

*

source of the cut-up: a chapter from a novel I am writing