i meant holly

i meant holly, like the jingle jangle
of your speedbump balls a-wiggle

(((transfer the blur
quickly, noise)))

cohesion deploys insane
matterific verbs of hot damn
kids these days::::::The boys!
& the girls

This has nothing to do with Jessica

sometimes ::::: we ::: have ::: been ::::: known
to unlock each other's doors at night
taking a bath with candles at each other's throats
(our hands at) (who's looking here?) (only descend once)

throbbing cursory censor: once denuded some
but lived on. made the most of the fabric
as the chairmen say. made the most of all
the quilts at hand.  we really did.

but of course, says the thankless mind again,
you know what i mean: the aspirin tablets.
thankless ankles. a response to a spooned question
dolloped: here's the answer: WE HAD TO

the wind blows | my dreads sway
he had hair like war | like "wait!"
please slow down hurricane

as a vast melting of words has been a stove
--recently as today-- 
was a melt water cooler now a well
then a candy now a chocolate
first a lover; later, a cantilever

& don't i just have it all up the
ass & so forth daddy. i'm a day-glo
bratty kid with sunscreen and a kiss
to give to you whether you like it or not.

i've known some kids, and some of them were nice kids
i've known some shins, and most of them were skinned
at some point, god knows. i can't even keep lower case
without offending heaven -- moreover,

i cannot keep kosher because i'm not Jewish.

Thus Began A Beautiful Friendship

"I hate writing papers," Julie said.
"I'm quite a great writer actually," replied Cameron.
"Oh really..."
"Yes, I'm excellent. What are you excellent at?"
"Besides giving head? Not much." She blushed. "I'm sorry I was totally kidding, I just met you."
"No, that's okay. Please continue."

Yacht Rock

Come next Saturday to the Yacht Rock Party.
The strong lock, art motif. Your daddy did
dusty springfield under milk wood. Would

you rather? I'd gather rocks like an heiress,
a planet named Paris. I like my countries
neopolitan, I like turtle-green countrysides

in the fawn eyes of December. It was blue
lace on a black vase, I'm giving you winter,
mom. Next Saturday I'm going to Yacht Rock.