Rumpus

Now there are black birds above my bed
in multiples
your curves are sharp and angular and
it was just like the first time
you pushing hard against me in
a room that was not mine
with sharp beaks and talons
it was just like the first time except that
I said yes and
their wings beat against my face
once again I held my breath in
with scaly-feet and carrion breath
kept my soul from floating
away
some peer down because
they are watching the electricity snap
you have thick thighs and a round rump and
tyrannosaurus arms
you ask if
you can just
finish

Tangential

I am peripheral,
he said
to me
of me

I am
hardly touching
a matter.

I am
sine over
cosine.

I am mathematical.
I just touch
the surface
of the curve
at that point

2: Paleontological abuse mind-set

A map of Texas
is void of communication.

A skull on the floor
is an obligation.

Various creatures, framed or plaster or sketched or without skin or without bodies
is secretive.

Whimsy
is a commodity.

A pile of your boots
is a condition for receiving love.

An axe
is "doing to" someone.

Another axe
is additive.

A book on ancient birds
has no limits.

A pencil sharpener for soft-leaded drawing pencils
is power over someone.

1: Healthy paleontological attitudes

A map of Texas
is controllable energy
A skull on the floor
is a choice
Various creatures, framed or plaster or sketched or without skin or without bodies
is a natural drive
Whimsy
is nurturing, healing
A pile of your boots
is an expression of love
An axe
is sharing with someone
Another axe
is part of who I am
A book on ancient birds
requires communication
A pencil sharpener for soft-leaded drawing pencils
is private

define:metamorphic

Something unfamiliar, then:
a rush of pain
a shout
stench that covers my hands and my hair
and bleeding that I cannot quell.

why
I think, laying after
why did i do this
when he does not care about me
when this will mean nothing to him

But that is exactly why
and
realizing this, I smile
and turn away

***

A tile, at first glance
on second, something far more
insidious.
then,
blades between my fingers and
part of what drew me to you
in the first place

***

At some point, I must
not be
that rock
anymore

(Or Walk 19 mins.)

It is
It is
It is

I always find myself back here, and I do not know the way home.

Define:igneous

You have not stopped searching.

Here,
though.

it is      a different story





I want to sit within the twists of your cerebrum
and sing lullabies to your heart in its own rhythm

but only for a little while



. . .
you have not stopped searching, and i




have yet to begin