meow

Photo 197, originally uploaded by travissehorn.

spokane october 2007 airport : with ashley and lucy

I.

awakening breathless into dawnlight paling
my lifeline palm weighted in the jade leaf
 of your back burning bright 
but painless - its hard to forget or ignore
   a bedwife   an appendage  or a portrait
or my fingers cupped this way, against the small of your back
maybe a slowly
pulled curtain of imaginary living.
  you're not just a grinning
passenger or a generous child. give
 me a peach or else
  iron me flat.
II.

standing in this rain again
only now its jade spoons soothing
 my palpitations
  the wind is dropping whistles
(now) and the swelling avenue is flooded,
making all light veiled like an untouchable
concubine.
 I'll needle you forever my own. not twins but bound
by great waves of blues and burgundy silks, across spilling
years or autumn embraces, forever my own and you forever 
sound 

III.

to be loyal and smiling is lost in a curdled second - wait until the light is lost - scream a doctor's cold shoe horn whore. I've lost my mind but I've lost worse - smiles are not similes this time. get the hill and for awhile the second part is wild but not ethical - soundless and lights out when nature hears the laugh of dying breath - a swerve - chung! - lantern swells and kills - some dumped, some feel nothing for old friends - on the page of turning off. constantly perky and wailing for a quick release and pleading for forgiveness. that is forever unforgettable - processed burning body, its me and its you and we are the lucky ones - go now to the empty grounds - don't feel the way, just go - its so easy; just feel forgiving - its love and its unforgivable - my name, its yours - bombs keep dropping - you give to me and I feel the rocks that fly - violence, its unheard but children know it well - the drugs are quick, love is taller. wheels of transparency, wed one to the other - matrimony - an idea and beyond fair chase, the feet between generations are good intentions and beats familiar conversations, unfueled by the impossible distance - the answers are found in -------------------- wine! unfamiliar is lord - aderall(drug) or mine! lower and tread is great - swallow the larger of the two - work - no, heres the way - everything is psychedelic white lines - far, far from the way i was then - again across the generations the body feels the forgetful function but still the answer is on the road - turn off and harmonize - stay up or stay gone - harpsichord - you - you know - that could drown a girl - she could - the wheels on edge, on for days - the impersonating of those who are already there - faking the age and the smell is even there - feeling for those you despise most , thats the entrance - the beauty in the embarrassed and drained - fire without the burn - forever feeling satisfied _______ nothing is up or down, the visions flow in, not out - years of snakes and tradition found in one weaving parasite and white lines overcome anything. the acceptance of the body - the power of something that is real pain or perhaps its better off with the dead - the curling smoke is a decision of love not witch doctors - vinegar blood and words that are painful - hail words that are true! here its o.k. to fly at night - hay stacks - smirks and the attempt to stay lethal - palpitations - on pitch - oh - the night brings - hail! - street lights and dreams of jack on the rock - lion witch and the wardrobe - the lion is him - he is sacrificed - he was nothing ---- just nothing - its the end - he's pushed to death - the feeling is lost when the threat is made of fear, pain and sadness. the lines made through the plinking gorgeous hum and warm vibration - the light holds - the light burns - the cancer holds but i swallow it down, moonlight - i know you in brief but like the one i know, i know you better than most. the folk tale number is a feeling told before but undescribed until the invention of the real word to replace love, the world shuddering in friendship with those hums, those sunrises, those oh... your body, well your ribs, you're unsure and that makes me want you more - the air is unknown, its only the buzz, the hum of attempted love -- circles! its o.k. to write in the circle; to write in the dinner plate of your foremothers and fathers - mothers, fathers - dinners and something without the power - lumps - ignore - oh - my mother did her best - father just like her-___________ after so much love, so much throat clinching and tango, there is still a plethora of love sounds creeping wowo.... the sky will bring the metal, breath curves one endless and not ever mine... too warm without the feeling of knowing the meaning - ba ba ba - love goes on - give away your love ------------------------ the body can align with old friends but the friends feel that the worth of the actions does not equal the weight of the actions - using your body as much as she does - the milk, the feeling of all the wrong things of one generation - expelling the feelings and beliefs - one feeling.... the beliefs of the wrong generation - your mother brought to her knees, to her knees - shackled but normal and therefore.

nearly inside I was boldly just leaning, looking nothing like thirty-two would you record her somehow, privately floating by the offices I can recall smiling in my old boyish way again, I got plastered at the monastery without her I was sweating my body framed by her palms and now my friends are numbered birds, and they are all You didn’t come, you couldn’t. you were draped and went swimming embarrassing but you let me see on purpose I stood still on the shoreline, I held your book in my hand I know its not the 400 Blows I took a look, Oh Kafka sure aren’t you wide and dead? the dove shows us beams pure and like her birds catch all my questions is she a girl of passions but don’t tell me, I like to guess sometimes drop your curling cowardness, remember books aren’t written yet you can’t have every autumn and the spring you can try suspending your protection into thin empty air, your stripes are shed where is the violet lobby that we need? my muscles are entwined in yours this is a hard affair we’re working the rue for feeling better has left us crying sleepy in our rooms she is towering love up higher the eye can see it but the tower will fall if a wind can blow a feather as it falls don’t steal the stones or your vision will become undone the day the boy trembles in the air scared again, I’m finally understanding what a friend can really be flickering in the wind or burning bright aware of the heat and the light I pressed my face against your chest you acted like you wanted to but I can’t touch you the way I want I can live with two rings on my hand I paled in the afternoon your body liking me, you said It feels good as tears dribbled off your chin I sang a song for children you sang a song for the wind we sang a song only for us I ask you to be true out of mind, I cant hold you didn’t you say always in the end whoever said we both can’t win didn’t make it but lets try again could you hold on to my wavering hand you’re the girl that I hum for and whistle tunes I wrote to you I wrote on the moon, I want you two strangers can imagine staying all night, until morning comes on like the steam from a cup of tea.

(bottom)

Right the brick and gas

Of paisley ice and blood

Of the positive gospel eater

Bleeding v-ee and working

All day in the white

Factory – some Russian

Peasant that refuses to eat

Or read – no plays and

Bumbling tonic or heat of

The day stuck – weaving

And stuck – unpaid and

Exhausted – some bottle of

Expensive curls – where has the

Ring gone? To tel aviv – some

Devil tape stealing – sprinting

Towards a better understanding

Of a cut off – dub – nervous tools

Bent on fruit – sore skin and

an unlikely red – a beard gives

no breaks and sleep for 2 years

(top)

Sleep in the back – I love

Two girls at the same time –

What a wonderful drowning it is

The bleach will never cash in

Long enough hold on to it for

Good feelings but the plink gives a

Bad grease and large skin hole

Opposites are all you can scavenge

Some sort of board – same tamb-

orine that plays wretchedly for

the most grateful critic and a five cents

tip – the beating ends up being the beginning –

even when its through itself over and over

(sideways, bottom corner)

Wink and flick a

Mature title rub – a

Shower of ice and

Ice being the beginning

Of the stain that will

Ruin the toilet seat

Cover – shag and

Blue and shag and blue

And the moon is now some

Stinky corpse – I love you

Just like that.