all of us have a place in history. mine is clouds.
I’ll affect you slowlyas if you were having a picnic in a dream. There will be no ants.It won’t rain.
Hinged to forgetfulness like a door,she slowly closed out of sight,and she was the woman I loved,but too many times she slept likea mechanical deer in my caresses,and I ached in the metal silenceof her dreams.
Somebody should have taken him to a stationary store and pointed out the difference between an envelope and a whore.
The Beautiful Poem”I go to bed in Los Angeles thinking about you.Pissing a few moments ago I looked down at my penisaffectionately.Knowing it has been inside you twice today makes mefeel beautiful.
Her hand had a lot of strength gained through the process of gentleness.
I have emotions that are like newspapers that read themselves.I go for days at a time trapped in the want ads.I feel as if I am an ad for the sale of a haunted house:18 rooms $37,000 I’m yours ghosts and all.
For fear you will be aloneyou do so many thingsthat aren’t you at all.
Moonlight drifts from overA hundred thousand milesTo fall upon a cemeteryIt reads a hundred epitaphsAnd then smiles at a nest ofBaby owls
My sperm came out into the water, unaccustomed to the light, and instantly it became a misty, stringy kind of thing and swirled out like a falling star, and I saw a dead fish come forward and float into my sperm, bending it in the middle.
30 cents, two transfers, loveThinking hard about you I got on the bus and paid 30 cents car fare and asked the driver for two transfers before discovering that I was alone.
She had a voice that made Pearl Harbor seem like a lullaby.
the sweet juices of your mouthare like castles bathed in honey.i’ve never had it done so gently before.you have put a circle of castlesaround my penis and you swirl themlike sunlight on the wings of birds.
We walked back to iDEATH, holding hands. Hands are very nice things, especially after they have travelled back from making love.
I didn’t know the full dimensions of forever, but I knew it was longer than waiting for Christmas to come.
All of us have a place in history. Mine is clouds.