Saturday, September 24, 2011

An Erotic Story

They never told me whether and I wanted to and they had paint.  I watched through my holes yoga women which did something.  He thought he was a respecter of women because he said he liked eyes more than he liked their breasts.  I liked the idea of not liking anything particularly though I thought of licking and liked it too.  I was thanked and watched hers.  I liked knowing that licking was not liked particularly.  I was thanked again and watched through my holes, it didn't really matter how.  Looking was mostly not liked.  But they never told me and I wanted to.  Later I thanked women then bought something like a sleeve of paper cups.  A woman wore something but I don't remember.  He reminded me and was thanked and I was later thanked for not looking and for being reminded.  I wasn't able to say anything else and I thought of cinnamon buns.  They didn't say they liked this.  I mostly wanted to be with them but I thought of cinnamon buns instead and I was thanked this time by more women than ever before.  They soon didn't thank me and I went back to buying things at the bakery or the party supply store.  After I didn't care I just imagined I watched through my holes.  He told me what she wore and finally I watched hers.  I didn't like the feeling and was thoroughly thanked.

Thursday, September 15, 2011

if then why'd you ever born about said 3


they're swamped under the waves the
      seaweeds chew greener

the thing you told me not to do lasted outdoors
      it sand trapped my pelvic region

taking the bus might to soothe the hair
      for relaxing might on legs

you can't stand as he above to whom dogs
      toward in spring patio asks who slow

the neanderthals hunting elk meat
      conservation looked geographic

potted compost tinges skins is
      the wind is he's mouthing

it's not trying to be anything if morning not while
      dipped fur and loving me

guttered jaw tasting lands on
      barbecued frozen fish lamps

can't stay out all night possibly goes swims
      hearing windows didn't

sure first night waiting a minute gives stopping
      some sauce for processed bread

baby where you going if not for fair trade
      turkish rugs like bubbled glass

connect the wheels to the microwave
      conservation compost consume compost

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

if then why'd you ever born about said 2


offered caramel fruit in of the walls
      sadly wooden moments bamboo

that too drinks bubble grass
      until lips percussion dying found her

wake me up in freshening
      tasting lands told me you loved

if morning not while and not shelving
      dipped fur before until after shivered

antelope skull taking the bus soothing
      wind-covered mouths chew

if then why'd you ever born about said
      dig in trees time start business but enjoy

set there fog as he above to whom dogs
      felt under that more nods see the beyond

barbecuing fish in an earthen cave
      when something not of nature

the because something not of nature makes
      that's still pictures possibly goes swims

other islet but will to through every though
      all still like in the cracks

it connects its own carries toward in spring patio
      didn't it sweet outdoors asks who slow

I felt their tips under waves
      right there in the parking lot

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

if then why'd you ever born about said


be thinking how strange it'd be
     to say wants rug or goat horns

or any future contexts of it
     and if music is permitted

the neanderthals are in mountains
     then don't miss you

there meaning to me
     nature mostly in windows

that hides are rugs too of bubbled glass
     pink flashes between trees

picture it puncturing antelope skull
     with walking stick

one time I say to him you've
     dug yourself into an earthen cave

looking like a succulent diorama one's
     on a bluetooth talks to self

freshening light green air let's say
     of a commune someone's planning

and then they come up they rip his limbs off
     right there in the parking lot

drunken of that so snow-driven
     trees and the brown hairs that cover

and some at the lake you're feeding
     processed white bread