Every piece will be dissolved
Tides lick at the sugary soil
And you know how it feels
To be the cattle worn salt
Licked to grit and fading

I am the etched
Devleoping pinholes that turn into tunnels
Taking a pummel, crumbling
Coming undone
And letting it happen.

Most days, I would rather be the wave
Salivating and slurping
Forcefully back, the specks
Of things that once stood firm

Every lap of liquid lip
Dragging the essence
of every jagged tip
That lies in the way of me
Obsessed, wet
Coming to shred rough edges
And gulp them into oblivion

I’d rather be the sea
Rocking and swaying
Splashing and sucking
Surging, swallowing
Gasping, swirling…
What I wouldn’t do
To wash every bit of everything,
Including you, with my salty juice

The moon made me do it!
This lollipop lullaby,
This metronome motion,
Contracting ocean
Take it down
To it’s very core!

Erosion through
Every gushy explosion
My unstoppable droplets
Conspiring, corrupting
Fragments I meet
Sweet melting into me
More licks in than the owl
One, two, therrrrreeee

Eons of persistence
Smoothing roughness
Eating holes
Through stone
Smashing away pebbles of confidence;
The outline of my boundary
Lined with tiny skulls of earth

My ardent quest
Blasting layers
Fizzy foam slapping
Each morsel that I seize,
Spilling all over
And while at times, I will
lap slow,
Know that I am savoring the minerals

I will rinse its dirt gone
And agitate it in my deepest belly
I’ll ebb and swish and spatter
Collecting, coercing, immersing
With a persistent desire to
Swallow it whole

And I will never be full.

Published in: on April 3, 2019 at 11:29 pm  Leave a Comment  
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Tip-toe to the loo
careful not to disturb…
Trickle scalding bubble brew
a flicker votive
foxy motive
Roll the Cocteau swirling lullaby
cue the dim revelry
dip and dunk, slip-in, sunk
cherry toes
and flesh mangoes
Like moths to flame
or squirrels to snacks
He comes creeping, eyes peeled
to Venus’ trap
for the snatch
The rhythmic tide of captive boy
caught in some sweet sticky mess
in strumming stride with lady ploy
waves unfurling
frothy churning
Pucker (in so many contexts)
let it slurp away
from the bottoms to the twined necks
no need to seize
what can be lured with ease

Published in: on September 11, 2009 at 1:20 am  Comments (1)  
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what a big bite that sinks beneath
Oh, there will be skin in our teeth
tomorrow, and I’ll say it was fun
that spear, it was rapture
that had me tossing, but captured
the target in the sites of your gun
Oh sweet misery, captain
I reluctantly lapt in
your ocean, viscous and pale
On your wall, mount me
to your fish-friends, recount me
the resplendent bonny white wale
Published in: on December 28, 2008 at 10:37 pm  Comments (2)  
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