the missed spaces, the missed places, the missed times, the missed rhymes, the missed persons I could have been or will be, the fear that restricts me, the choices that elate me, the food that prolongs, the life that kills and opens and winds up and scares and tears and screws, inspires and heightens and pitches and rolls and drowns and crowns and takes hold of and molds and breaks and pours into and empties and burns.

and here we steal away together

recorded 26.4.18

Riding waves of smoke.

Moving toward knowing which way

This now is headed.

 

Apparently toward,

My right earlobe, scenes your

Inquisitive eyes.

 

With ink and color

You trace the present moment.

Which happens to be

 

Me. I sit beside

You. And forget where I am.

Though I never leave.

 

But in that moment,

I’m thinking of my lover

And when I drew them.

 

Thinking of their chest

How it holds my hips and ass

And flexes with each

 

Thrust. But I was lost.

My mind fled so quickly from

One thought to the next.

 

From the memory

Of us, artist and model,

Toward the fucking us.

 

But always the past

Or the future fantasy.

Never simply now.

 

So I go there, or

Rather I stay here, and now.

_ _ _ _ _

 

And I find myself,

Alone. Confined to this skin.

And hyper aware,

 

Of the sensation

Of air and silk and cotton

Against my body.

 

And these sensations

All fluctuate between pain

And nervous pleasure.

recorded 5.12.15

recorded 18.4.17