Made Beautiful

You were made beautiful.

And I have been sent
to unmake you
so the beauty that originally
made you
can be made again in you.

You were made beautiful.
Water from a spring
for humanity.
But the metals of men
polluted you.
Though there in your skin
the water runs true.
Just when I see you
I drink you
and refresh you
with the renaissance of
yourself,
the electrification of heaven.
My sweetest blue eyes,
your eyes carry memories
of your making.
I’m quenched.
You quench thus forward.

Turned ancient sojourn of
matter from heaven to
consciousness
it’s you.

Someone Who Loves You #1

Someone who loves you
will wake up in the middle of
the night when you wake up
not breathing well,
with a dry mouth,
feeling anxious,
your heart pounding tepidly
in the stillness of the desert night,
and they will ask you in a gentle whisper,
“Baby, are you ok?”

And yeah,
that is pretty straight up what love is

in its myriad ways.

Lesbian Kiss In Capitalism

God, your lips.
Wait, not that “god”.

Just your lips.

In lesbian love
with each other,
ripped that masculinity
from the Aegean
in ancient times,
they did
on some days, in some regions.

Then why not now?

Why can’t the air be ours?

Or why not the fruit trees by the
weathered windows from Naples?

Why is winter always judged?

Your lips do this thing to me
when the hearth fire burns,
endless rains fall from the sky,
and my bones feel cold, mineral,
and hollow.

Your lips; slain, succulent and laid out
in my mind across everyday for
the rest of living,
similar to sunrises
in so many collected mortal eons.
They uplift a TV repair shop
in Oregon,
upholding what must be heaven.

They turn from smooth beige
and melt into translucent metal.
Do they?
They do.
They melt my flower.

Our Ways To Death

As we fall to our death
from the sky,
30,000 feet from a crashing plane,
I embrace you,
hold you,
wrap all of myself around you
to protect you,
give every core of my body over
to providing refuge and solitude
to you in our final moments as we fall.
You kick out in anger,
in reflex,
in animalistic rebellion,
a fawn with her leg trapped in a fence,
and we split off and fall to our deaths
alone.
Me in tears and lost.
You in fear, freaked out, and fighting
ghosts who should’ve loved you.
Til the earth breaks our angelic selves
and busts the breath in our lungs
to nothing and everything else.

Why?

Why?

Is this what Sapphic love is?

We now know why civilization fails.

The best among us cannot love.

A Social Drug

When a social drug happenz

The people of the world unite

They gather unlike before

looking for their brother

looking for the sister inside their self

Then they put down their technology

They walk down the street

Look for people

Find a person

Then they ask for a hug

they ask for love

When A Human Loves A Cat

He’s not even my son.

He’s not my flesh and blood.

Not my species or countryman.

He can’t utter a word of human language.

And yet I love him with all my heart and soul,
every ounce of my being.

My strange genetics to his ancient, long genetics,
laid there right across the universe,
side by side in this unfathomable miracle of
the same moment in time.

I say it with courage,
I say it ready to crumble in endless
sentient, fecund melancholy…

I love you Bleuets.

Serve the house of the masters
to destroy the masters,
undo their myths.

The little, mighty cat.

Star Fields

At night we lay with each other
a human
and a feline
across a place of star fields
we dream

Penthius
Prosthylkass
Zyvar

Places of the endlessly living

Bent fist and paw
we claw
back to mortalhood

With the sun bleaching out
what was known of spirits

we wake to live with
and love each other
not knowing why we love

what has been made amongst
the particles
pronounced in arrangement

Pussy On Hand

The scent of
your pussy on my fingers
makes the drive out to the country
even purer
in the morning
with the mid-morning sun
still working its way up into the sky
burning off the last of the dew
on the green and yellow
wavering tallgrass

The coiled fibers of tallgrass
remind me
of the small curly blonde hairs
bunched around the sides of
your forehead,
weedling undergrowth
aside your larger strands of
golden brown hair

The tallgrass speaks to me to be
sentient and live

Love Of Relativity

You call it 23 hours
the past day we spent together.
I call it a lifetime.
That is how our moments feel.
These relative things.
Do I have the courage to live them?
Lives that come, go, and pass.
But I plan to see you again for
another era,
O spirit still spinning in my heart
into
the stars.
The stars have left us spinning
forever.
As us,
within us,
across us,
between us.

I can’t reach your lips.
Your eyes always celebrate Spring
in their blue windows
and still see sadness in the world.
Heavenly mortal.
Into
the stars.
Eviscerated.
But living here, now.

The Crystal Day

It is crystal the dream and day
after
knowing love.
But
why not ceramic
that holds wine and water
in preparation for solace
and sustenance?
Why not terracotta
for thousands of years
perfect for vessels,
made of the earth,
sign of the village?

Crystal clears and obscures,
stops, splits, and opens light
infinite and fixed
so as the nature of the universe,
mysterious by its own instruction set,
unanswerable — though inert
and living.

(Being, having been, vanished…
and continuing to be)

The day after the crystalline
dream
of love
I seek a pitcher
to store and pour
my water,
that I should not thirst.

That I should see you
when you speak,
speak the universe’s psalms

raining everywhere.