Bring Black Rice

You neck me 

with calligraphy cuts

romantically red, silent,

and scythed in

a line unbreakable:

I'll take you away from here.

But I scab

into Supple’s slut—

fresh flesh to

finger and fuck :

blame and blemish. Thus

I pick to bleed. My histamine inflames

so singeing your loved letters rise

and remind Rigor Mortis

to marry us.

I gush

to be your staleheart, 

skipping—with you—

every 

beat.

After Maggie's Farm

I heard a howlin’ truth

drag its feet to my paw, lay

down a path and pour

out a tangent sayin’

You wouldn’t know a wolf

pack payin’ prayer to

God if He

told you.

So with two dull teeth

and a belly fierce to

boast ‘em, I took

off to find you on

the outskirts—chest

towards the sky

breathin’ rain and
repentance.

Mary Paints Adam

Gray billowsilk,

wriggle through my

temples and convolutions a

monochrome snake,

acrylic.

Tongue me deep,

lung-ingly. With a clockwise twirl

moonwalk me slow. Dance

on the floor in the round

with me, darling.

Brush up against, all

around and around

me: Masonite man

quite clean. And—

Cover me thick! Skinned

with experience to think and

tell about the town, “I’m Alexathymia’s ex!”

Thy art, already on my breath.

And dirty, now

glowing. Me

in unshuckable color

of Eve, really fucking

fresh and wet and close

to the beginning.

So, I go gray.