Friday, 26 August 2016

navel (touching) label #4

The fabric of life
a dust-colored thread

i will now hug you
so hard (your hat falls off)
 while tickling the
backs of your
      knees

archived emails with
comet tails (uncomfortably)
we watch them
disappear

entire social contexts
gone awry
(and)
the way you know i know ya
is textured like granola

    and guns
    and sons
    of guns

cannot unravel
what we've come to love
about (our fair maiden)
weave city

sewn back together the
ends of days and
carefully self-placed in bed

head at the foot
foot at the head

eye of needle sees
the thread and
closes ranks

 send in the dreams the
fortified milk the
hormone replacements
the fortified tanks

I might pull too quickly away
 vacuuming the room to
 do the dishes

dreamer
do the dishes dreamer
do the dishes

 the track switcher the track
switches having seen your face
in my reflection

god i love to dream
with you about you of the tail end
of dreams where we
(begin)

(again)
your lips on my earlobe
untying the knots of a world
without touch

the blush of a crush
on the plush

mile high pile
the dust-colored fabric
of life

too fuckin' bad to be
 without a studio

you coulda
got it all
down