sanguineous to porite

Porite,

Severance to the avenues
in lustrous divorce I went feeling

the blind minimal to get by, repeating
every movement intends,

so why not hold the sun
sovereign of fire and the frost's permutations?

And thinking I'd figured at last things out
in the cloud and smeared recoil

I caught the vendors of incense,
metalwork, wood and the beggars on gold

and revised into sheets of fire my compositions,
though wondered later if the same

couldn't be done with love--
fleece which doesn't easy go cold

but engulfs in the remembering like when I spent
an afternoon with my along

the shoreline sweet-- wove
hopes of our coming together now coarse

as the veils of original seperation recoverde
and what could I say to her then?

-Sanguineous

porite to sanguineous

Sanguineous,

Rend in the ventricles when in
the violence of love i've learned sometimes

a woman just needs in simple comforts,
honied generosities behind

the ear to tell and remember
the simpler sweets such as when the heart's

garden was undivided from the earth,
and desire was a wonderful potential.

And spread in the material still good
I'll tell her that the golden world was never

against our blood and that physical disruption
is only here natural to bloom,

so as to remember of course
no pomegran richness without a broken first.

-Porite

sanguineous to porite

Porite,

Sweeter returns aside, in the sea-waved
sigh rends only resurgence

and the marine wind's violence
remembered as we, meaning of course

my sweetheart and I, found for each other
the sea-smoothened pieces of sea glass

and the slowly in sand embossed
sea shells, each thread a ribbed along the back

definition to ocean faraway lonesomeness--
which is to say that the shells

and the glass transmit to hand
the scribbled and schismatic of white sound

which, although we couldn't exactly tell
what we felt at every part,

the sun layered in topaz
of sky and ocean seemed easy and worn

as we found with each other, without
much talk, the sea-smoothened.

-Sanguineous

dirty black to sanguineous

Sang,

what when not even sure in the seen?
what name? flower? feature?

which face? and followed love
through the inner thigh and where halogen

pools on corners and canals of the open
rose? and this body not

belonging to mere vision?
veils of worry and more mostly of fear.

-dirty black

kekn to dirty black

Dirty Black,

Sing timeless though time
smolder throats, grain and the gray

almond to clay and stone and you'll see
I gave at least tongue against

an inert slaughter, columns
for convulsive and encroaching in demon

limbs which limbs would flame in the fire
of fights at bars in the knife

to the night's hour, boredom
and second rate whores in the heart of your songs---

your weeping is a dead bird in September;
your boredom its last branch.

-Kekn

porite to kekn

Kekn,

Before even this morning the sun
had stung my eye and on my skin

a silent mosquito with no compulsion
and I'd wondered how long

the alone could last in shadows,
while we sleep or go crouching like goats--

the sun I mean-- without our blood's portion,
how long? The fresh wound wondered

but this morning there was a wolf
out front, waiting on the whitening lawn.

-Porite

praxhe to porite

Porite,

Wharf this evening I watched the sun
serpent blonde on the sea

and the boat-sloughing shadows
together or against each other and the way

two guys went with a girl, which recurred
every time we tried too

to feed love's lymphatics
the spray of the sea; ocean violence

in our silent hearts and contesting and young
we met competing for a girl

until we saw in each other
the same envious narcissisms and saw

eventually we'd do better as friends,
winding in and through failure

because nobody really cares
when with a friend-- those days sprawl

to a summer whenever and moreso as suns
burden early on the wharf.

-Praxhe

porite to praxhe

Praxhe,

Scarce worth comprehension
the two friends in the gentle of tongue rain

sound by all appearance the same,
having changed at most

in clothes or direction they'll show
in the gleam of each other's coruscation,

which seems by all appearance to suggest
that as different as grains grow

or as distant as friends get,
the processes of harvest remain essentially unchanged.

-Porite

kekn to dirty black

dirty black,

where and in what alluvial
waste your drowsy wash and canal

of pleasure in the strands of morning?
how far drunk? how long?

how many unsteady hymns
before the stretched beds of blackened sand?

kekn

dirty black to kekn

Kekn,

Disrupt cours before dawn schnapps
soon after seven-- broke

with a county appointment
at noon means I couldnt keep a job

if i wanted or had to and out the laughter
in the thought of wethervanes

out of work and wellfare
supporting a versified smirk i'll wear

the same torn but my favorite-- a dirty
blac god in the early drunk.

-Dirty Black

praxhe to dirty black

Dirty Black,

Street uncaring I go after
the good days but usually too far and I can't

remember most of yesterday
wherefrom honied particulars

rise out a tone unclear,
and I've had my chance with the good and the strong

but the bee never learns that ultimately
he's alone, sprawling

under the valley and wind
the bee doesn't learn nor need to learn,

natural through the shadows and the shining sun--
I'm only ever in over

excitement and when the opportunity
comes I couldn't to save

a single good soul say no,
and I've had my chance with the good and the strong

and the street of flowers flooding but again:
I almost always go too far.

-Praxhe

dirty black to praxhe

Praxhe,

Fled full flowrs in evening
resolved by morning,

morning brings flowers
and the good golden days of gods

constant return in arrival,
kept home on any coruscation

which when out and without home
keeps bloom in keping motion.

-dirty Black

starchild to praxhe

praxhe,

Swan on the wing, black
swan and the same loneliness of creating

something mature in natural quality,
to not fear error or fake

knowing what I don't know
mostly gets me down and worrying

in stars for constellations I've shown
myself the constellations

are mostly always the same--
the sound of the names mostly changing

and I could fly in the names I've known
but never, as consternation

when reading the swan sky,
black on the wing, should never not matter.

starchild

alsaba to starchild

star

Remains of instantaneous
birds, reception and their perch

from through the imagination when in flights
and white rains as far

as the faraway could imagine--
mountains and the nestling young in the without

name storms, which in the shower
I picture as immediate, outside

and overwhelming, too much
for even the cedar-- breaking in the persuasion

and the being born of everything from
smoke through creation in flame--

and we of course both there
at the start of all nakedness, break of rain

and the soaring swan, reception and his perch
of which we've dim remains--

and why you'd expect more
I couldn't possibly know-- or even care.

alsaba

llovm to praxhe

Praxhe,

If nothing else insecurity
should hardly indulge unrecognized

in character-- which is to say i'm only
responding now so maybe

you'll see people can separate
physically and not necessarily in the heart,

which shouldn't couch itself anyways
so easy in the desperate, and prefers

you when even from faraway
can sense the navigational holds of unhurt

courage, confidence and the svelte to heart
curiosity in the tomorrowing day

and of course I miss you, Praxhe,
but don't know when if ever again i'll be around.

-Llovm

praxhe to llovm

Llovm,

Quiet could take to our state
intent to distribute prebend distrust

in near distance, while the summer suns
turn against us and vacant

cadence finds that the holy
of love wounds don't need of return

and should never have known compromise or cover,
and it could deliver the news

to the world but it wouldn't matter
because you and I'd be no closer.

praxhe

kekn to porite

Porite,

Remember the devil was formed
in timbrel and flute after

which confusion the prince
of clamor on earth led out the celestial

choir and held the crystal note
when once, before heaven's

lavender stretch covered
the sunless beds and the broken spread

of music marked their silent distance,
the devil also sang.

-Kekn

porite to kekn

Kekn,

Spread in the mahogany
a woman naked is heaven curled

in vision and varnished folds of light,
and homosexual need

or not in the naked is only
ever feminine breath-- and slender.

-porite

llovm to porite

porite

what idiocy in the joy
of squandering youth-- summer wash

on the overturned pigeon, thousandth
hour and the swayward

flocks and i feel disconnected
from everything-- no love and unsure

about decisions-- i want somebody
but not in or through a decision.

llovm

praxhe to llovm

Llovm,

To my being born day another
year means it's been an entire year

since we've been together and around together
and what to say i don't know

after so long or whether
we could even return to the way things

easily were without care and last year
there was cake and beer

and the understanding
in each other that despite whatever

was to come soon enough we'd again
be together and around.

-Praxhe

starchild to alsaba

Alsaba,

Vein in the star lunged
veins and through the larynx nebulae

of light and generation shifting and why
should I worry mistakes

or the knowing I couldn't
understand in how capillary systems

function? Knots in the galaxies' furthest
suns I've seen these suns--

white-eyed in their blind light
though it never matters to travel so far

I've seen heaven in an arm, high time
in the swan's aorta, stars

when there were no stars, carcass
of light and breathing-- and brilliance--

which always the same could fly for all time
when even with no half flying--

and I've flown continuously
in chains across heaven unnamed in stars.

starchile

alsaba to starchild

starchild,

Perfumed of fable ruins
when in vision's eyes everything is history

and you, leaf to your hand, could travel
the scented destinations

in the crevice of a swan's heart
but only if not to return-- as once there

there forever and it can't be faked or ignored
when faraway sights blur

though you see worms in the sun
of stain corpse and the nestling of birds--

and being born in the continuities
of stars you see clouds

from constellations, milky
of beginning mornings with the nestling of birds

and you begin again always in dreams,
crevice of a swan's heart

or its intestines serpentine from light
and love like yours is love in one's shadow--

break of light on the branch or the split
of sky stomach, when from inside

out the chamber of bird
flocks here together and there, taking you

through your lonely imaginings and walks
in parks by the dormancy of benches

as families casually part
and you, child in the leaf-blown chamber,

you'll lay in your staring all day wondering
how it all fell communion.

alsaba

starchild to alsaba

alsaba,

Imagining impossible unless
when by you and again-- white in orchard

of stomach, disappearance and gone echelons
of the peach air pitted sweet

in the throat i've waited years
and on the hilled hours of hoping song,

and sweetened the stretches of star and nerve,
and still and again to nothing.

STARCHILD

praxhe to starchild

starchild,

impatience from inside out
and to have tried in every situation to be

everything-- amber glare on the wall,
square evening a few minutes

and no more as from inside
the bronzing heart we've waiting centuries,

sensitive and slave-ear'd though never
overly the desperate-- flute

to the men of the blistered drum
we've known miscommunication, salt-wind

and the letter sent and never returned--
we've written ourselves to shadows,

walks in the park, the birds,
and the crusts of bread on a cluttered desk.

-praxhe

ps. go in however you know
is best, words from the wing and more

from the insecure-- nervous habits
unto heaven as i've nothing else.