The Tesseract

To recall stained fingertips
that never leave is a joy I,
for one, will always hold dear. That
meat, those legs, the undying
pace of being to which we yielded
in naked thrusts of naivety.
Be a ghost from morn ‘til
a day when that is realised
and wrench each ounce of
hedonism into these steps;
these waves, these bulbous
feet as well. We define such beauty
in Saxon tongue to wrench
a flame and slap a name to
a wall that knows not of
what it means. Grow to
know how childhood
woe is everything that
shapes the salted water on
bare feet that skip; stoney
and morose but ever-

Lost Anchors

these memories
loose as they lay
are hardened
by the still decay
of passers by
that wander gay
but effervescent
shards of you
hang heavy on
each tear-dropped dew
to watch for me
I’ll watch for you
and tear to shreds
the barbarous untrue
be free and fair and
type notes to share
these memories
are our crosses to bear
hearts in a deck
that beg to peck
something false
in a vintage check
stiff uppers
in our downer glass
make weight to
wonder what may pass
as real in tandem
a perfect random
let’s have this dance

I’d Love To Just Become Obsessed With Something

Like the Voyager
Or a book of hymns

Her height
His scratchy limbs

Touch helium and hate it
Feel comatose and perfect

Incessant with noise but gladly

Running all the fucking time
Just powerless to disagree

What will be will be
What is it is it is it is

I wonder if the world is me
I wonder if I know to be

Make well of all that sits before
Just be