jarfold

what was it you did? omit and simplify or turn inside out and kiss good luck the broken fixture in your palm, under your pillow like tooth faerie bargains you only indulge out of sentimentality for the inoperable

I. the times of ancestral beauty, sleek and alluring, have passed like geisha entertainment; what once was good is now as sour as the closure to a long-awaited masquerade. he knows this as he watches her flicker away between the folding clothes and falling timber, just like a flower slinking down river in a bed of silt. can he ever recall a moment as precious as this? none remember so well as human thoughtlessness the dire treacly to glory days, but futility feeds on finite wishes as a finger might tempt a scab to justify the change. II. demure pain is unable to shed skin beneath the opaque air, stretching taut with heat an

imagination-prone, you bewitch your toes to get up and walk out, little piggies all the way home. I've never cared for your flare or mouth of limes your profile just a sore kite flying too bright as it watches angels through the midnight dimes. a craftsman, a self-product a judge and a bear, you seek honey in caves like wind through my hair, not for the taste, nor for the smell, just the satisfaction of not having to care. whistle soft and simmer sweet like a turtle birth on the steep shoreline, and I will be the tidal to sweep you off your feet a natural disaster island shrine sketching castles from the dunes and trash marred

she hums like a pollenated flower in springtime as the soles of her feet pass colour-marks on the sidewalk, unspoken childroots slipping out, sunspot pupils she hops back through as buttonhole tapestry, simple, sleek, possibly happy   somehow pure.