Gentle whispers from above
Awakened me more
Than ever did
This loud world

You’ve always been a storm
Your lightning mouth
Electrifies my heart

Don’t take away my dignity
While patching up my broken dreams

Ocean gusts slunk between the trees, who whispered to one another about The Great White Father being home; how everything was back to how it should be.

...feel the fierce way desire
tourniquets itself around you and
clings

Clubland South of Market tweak-
chic trannies powder their noses from
bullet-shaped compacts and flick their forked
tongues like switchblades as they burn the night
down bleed day to night to day to

Mission sidewalks where pythons hide
twenty dollar balloons beneath their tongues which
get bartered in smiles quicker than a coke buzz and
tossed out through the cracks

Cottonmouth kisses
camouflage emotions and
strike with a vengeance
when he
wants and she
wants and they
want and I
won't

Genet was right, I suppose
when he wrote "The only way
to avoid the horror of horror is
to give in to it"
it's
the nature of
the economy of the
business it's the
nature of
things...

ink marks the page/where you execute your will like a doe announcing an/ox-stern mate with a single, bleary blink.