lurker best not
watch
for fear he’d
drool
to
be watched too..
reckless,
worm man wriggles
in and thru
lens
selfish to be caught
with you-
not that he’ll
confess.
coloursofthesoul
a rasp turned tickle in
the middle
of memory held back
heavy sneeze
to not drag
notice
to
why shoulders
shiver
so.
so why don’t
i read..
likely it’s paper
allergy-
perhaps the sockets
of my soul
are glutted with
weeds,
a mind shaped seed
between my
teeth,
the perfect
book
was
make belief.
a dream like playlist
liquifies
between poles of
desert mind
shooed back to grade
school photo
day-
always that one hair
out of place.
how lacking sleep
left linens
musty
foldless moldy
sheets
may not have chafed
my cheek
had they been
aired to
dry
and not bleached
in heat.
blind to shimmer
of tears
binding terror to fingers
upon sheath
of shiv too quick
to thrust.
a verse about
little,
sliver of time’s
string,
the best of all
i had
plucked from
the past
wilting like a
whisper
at peace on the
tip of my
finger
or wasted to
wind
like wasps on
skin.
been no dusk more
humble
secret slipped in
summer
tire swing over
puddle
spun out popping
bubbles.
desert drag defenseless stray
batting hands
away-
unmasked henchmen
closing in
on..
sunset gone to
forewarn
dawn.
oft mistaken
mortal
grazing garden on
horizon,
golden lemon drop
propping
jaw,
melt me to my
knees-
eyelids part like
dying
sea,
a slip through lips
like portal
to flee what
battle?
a neon light turned
off by small
talk,
tuned into blocked
out canceled
channel-
pinching wick of
twitching
candle.
hands in the garden 
You must be logged in to post a comment.