o my star of luck
smile to me



.

Back of the play garden,

cloudlessly butterflying,

we made love like angels in snow.




Tilting til oceans took to hereafter
le sable rose
washed up shored

debris

from our lost arms

lost out on waves,


crescendoing in leaps into the pool across the banister

atravezando las ruinas de moteles de amor.




We’ve all heard it come rushing,



when it comes rushing in



it rushes in and all we hear is



all we hear rushing



as it comes









in claustrophobic back flips

in fish bowl swims




light it scoots in fins away




it scoots in swims

or let's it go,


going in.









The time makes everything old





so the kissing, young darkness
becomes



a monstropolous old thing.







There are parts when the monster is almost painful



reading about



the good view of him



and his struggle



to keep
along the border constellations

maybe not supposed to tells



fifteen year old secret hybrid dots rubbed out along the
intergalactic



thirty seven years ago today, he says, fingering harder






play doughs


of filtering



knots in our pretty hair.








knots in our soft tummies, kneaded under bellies of



frozen fog shit and guts tinkering



swills of beach lines in river faucets back into our mouths

plugged and making sucking.



of frozen pipes of fogged shit and guts swell
our skins and stretch across
our bellies

some of us have

some of our bellies
holler.

some belly howls cower.


some of us are cowered.



Meanwhile, Yemanja leaps in flotsam jetsam and ripples off the smokey veils



in tendrils.







Let us skip



seven waves








in mind in the morning wind bangs up the creaky doors



and going on about in the apartment.





to begin again.







The first day of the year the sky is violet.






.

artifacts of the winged




.