for Lindsay

There’s a distant ache in my left foot for some moments when the street slips out of recognition and Lindsay says you took it too far. Spans of sidewalk loll glutted with lawnmower sunshine. At intervals dandelions blink from earnest lawns. It must surprise them, a passing of c-style syntax, as erotic as causality, sipping blondly from huge fastfood gulps; do you like spring by the cemetery? I appreciate these trees as shadows of plato’s chastity, not unlike the new heat outside my chest congruent with new gestural petals. But then god struck me in the guise of sombre-clad knockers, Lindsay might admit. I put it this way while you have your bad day. I would walk in all our skins.

You and me. We gonna melt away like apples on the ground We gonna burn the dark out of midnight. Evergreens assemble in a phalanx on the road to the school. Imma walk this street twisted with shoals bloody with pent muscle Imma Grin At All Them Cop Cars. This just nights after a thirsty scorpion moon: i’m wishing we had more words for clouds. I will kill that motherfucker. Someone’s smeared a pensive and steely blue across the night; rouged with it i slide silently through your parking lots. Imma get my baby some hoedown ice cream, i scream to runover fast food cups. Cumuli scald in relief clots overhead. The new york thruway maybe sings over my shoulder, throaty hoarse with the peripheral thoughts of travelers. And then this open pavement, aged topograhical, this one step into rocks and dust and distant hidden houses. You and me. We touch like apples sugar to nothing in the summer. We surrounded by slow bees.

The audacity of daffodils peels beneath threaded sunshine
A spanish sleeping party
flutters from dandelion to frowsled dogwood
Even after a cold-hearted rain colors pop from their sockets

I amble through sidewalks strewn with white petals
I’m an aristocrat to the warmest breezes
Smoking buffalo filter de luxe sparked via yellow bic

I shortcut through good homes still awash in thruway traffic

Your mother reads all my poems about fucking you
Even an hour wholly burst between you
A blind of near-full moon slides up to me just above your houses

This one’s optimistic
spilled across a paleface walk

Today’s conflagration of blossoms traces
generous casts of shadow
She paints our bedroom walls silently
Her heart slurs in her chest
She lemons beige off a file cabinet
This is the new pace of sun in the kitchen today

Trying to run abreast her ceaseless shifting
Thankful she’s left these traces where we sleep

for Lindsay

Chautaqua fat with light
daubs car windows with crimson goldenrod
We got boogie fever in western new york

i hobble down dappled streets with a sprain to buy you tussin
The college kids breeze along spring pavements as i limp
My head’s tapping out the beat of stacker 3 and yohimbe

Ain’t no woman like the one i got

Cinammon brushed surge
yields to my rigidity

i always stand attentive for you

But the new warm weather makes her sad
The declarative sentences carved into picnic benches
fingerpaint a molten vortex around your wings

These delicate smears of acrylic flowers you left on the bedroom wall
blue after the sun goes awry
Ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone
And i can never walk in those gardens
my breezes only leave the stalks still

So i crack open more fizzy water
i sit indian-style wrapping my head in a sheet

this is how i sift the barbs from my gaze and preserve the integrity
of her smooth skin

It’s raining in fredonia and it’s raining in sheridan

The day wiley runs away
the night before we fuck
then fight
then fuck

those knee high socks on your legs all up on the air around me

cant take a picture of this room with strep throat
you sleep
Backwards
Sinless
beaming blue eyes

The secret of everything gelid across my lap
opened to lucid clocks twisting my curls
restlesly visiting on them the shakes
scaling your silence without a carpet in the whole place

those trees waiting patiently around islands of cars
waver like gas encased in heat

By ambulance litter and cart

On our way through white grass to niagra
Are you sad because you’re on your own

Our guardian star lost its glow
Wont come back from dead man’s curve!

Wish i could slip inside you and feel your mind
Stroking your chest my heart pounding there like a glass of merlot
with dinner–And i burrow into bed blind, guided by your heat

Awakened the apartment on fire smudged drunk around us
We spin silk from our mouths upright and aching
A dimebag leans on your dvd player–

The debris