the controlled crackling of an unavoidable flame

inside, forest fire—
touched enough.

distance smoke
crumbles black,

forms narcissist
spires. splinters

now into
multi-musicalities

of fusty arches,
of fallen pyres,

sticks sky w/
bloat moan.

petal pump
flattened like a fly-

swarm pelt,
rages into

blazing thick
bodiness.

far-off where
the eyelid air

undrapes its
emergencies,

water-body
presses its weedy

fingers to my
arid lips. and

despite never
feeling a thing,

it knew
you were there.

Saucy Lady

Your laugh

tingles my lips

like a green curry.

Spicy sentiments

clamor for viability.

Squished 

not one lime but two

to sweeten 

the inevitable letdown.

Led attention

astray, praying 

to never again

get carried away.

A dollop 

of destitute hope

cuts the heat,

beats me

if it ever learns

to give it 

up.

Wither

When last I watched you unfold
your limbs like apricot boughs,
I silver-pincered this wilted tongue
with the thorns of a frosted rose.

Whenever I witness you fearless
engorge horizon with your tears,
forget stars, forfeit sea and sun,
you water my will to stay here.

Now I think of this trajectory—
elegiac— won't say it's all history,
but warily confess all I've done
was just to keep you next to me.

Illogically Ordained

Ahora,
our halos
are hung out
like crisp white
flags from
sunken bunkers.

Never meant
to make my bed
such a battlement.

They
said the going
would be slow,
despacio, distinct
in its absence
of knowing.

Shadows
of redwoods.

In return,
an auspice
spit out by the ocean.

Fortunately No One Resides Where The Magic Happens

Morning's
dagger-thoughts
descend from fog,
long since zeroed
out.

A slit
in the finger-skin
floods glove
with blood.

Green
slurp-snakes
lie in a poorly-lit
enclave.

Expecting uplift.

Chandeliers
twist their metal
telling a tale of an
immigrant's arrival
from Bhutan.

This petal-machine
runs on probability.

Depending
on a headline
to rescue
paradigm.

Behold Through You As Bad As The Rest

Take center stage of my breath
while projecting your bravery,
and I will forfeit whatever's left
of skeleton's curtained fantasy.

Fingertips kiss with liquid touch
the lids of your reflective groves.
Threaded bare by morning's gruff
awakening, releasing dreamer doves.

I wanted you— wanted you whole
and happy. Months tore their wings,
regressing into indulgent toil
where the court berates the king.

These squiggles of stranded spirit
demand feelings to fit their agency.
Uncrushable will, what to do with it,
when it wills itself to crush me?

Hot and bothered I, with no other,
am scarlet, bird-bone, enticing flame
to take shelter in a throat that shudders
and scrapes the bottom of your name.

These Children Laughing Are My Valentine

Cascading sound

of newly-discovered
play-ground flocks
to me, summons

playtime memories, tries

to pluck into place 

my luck to be living.

Walking
sun-drenched trails,

softly reciting poetry

out of air,
out of frightened heart,

coaxing embarrassed
language which bares

no teeth.

With soft lips

like the sea
the words press

close to my body,

teasing out realization

that despite how often

it feels otherwise, 

I am in love

with this living.

Nobody Knew At The Time

look at this kid,
collectively struggling
to secede from his bedsheets,
questioning the validity of his alarm.

he bites his hand,
the fleshiest bit at the base of the thumb.
feels his way through the basement
toward sensual scalding chamber,
the delight of his day.

strapped stone
to his shoulders. dropped off
into phone call questioning function
of the plastic coyote. decided geese
were dissuaded from landing.

an hour out the window
brings surprising amount
to nothing. magick'd cash
from the swindle box.
made change.

narrow misses
and quick crossings
leads him to the interior,
where passersby flicker
in the hallway.

he cuts an orange pepper
with spinach and salami.
eats the offering in one go.

catches a dozen videos
in the crux of his yawn.
discarding bad feeling.

he shakes his head
as a wasp scales the window.

Enamorado

It is my private,
personal & public
hope

that the world
be enamored
with me

the way I
am enamored
with it.

Addictable

affable addict doubles down
on his dose, don't it look
fun. cries, laughs. flies
out of shallow hollow sleep
with gusto, barely touching
toes with a nectar tongue,
benefiting power creep.

solar plexus itch
mutates cracked coat
of touchable skin: hovering
o'er ten beet-red oars,
beats me what they're good for.

nefarious end-game
when the way ain't fun, so
scrape, salivate, skim
the overwrought thoughts
off your percolating path,
take a heroic gulp:
then, a few more
for good measure.