maps

she told me “flatter and dryer” was topography
still so simple wanting you on top of me
dehydrate consider common: black stones
white stones grid stretched wrapped round
rock call longitude yet don’t go no room
for overlap wanting something so much it’s
trodding trouble so no. more. words. no
wires or wondering just juggle beard baby
broken continents sang song of shaking
cords suggested sequence hand shook head
shook lowered lips lingered wrapped “oh”
echo of adverb in maze behind eyes feeling
bent launched lyrical the puzzle progress
my “child” to your “mystic movement” sipped
silence once seven then four days granted
good honest honey traded poisons crest
clavicle and came closer whispered watch
me become less bad more flow followed words
about bone took trains traced the tunnels
of my brain fingers hard hands along grooves
to read mind here’s white number one no 90’s
an angel asking anchor acting aged cry cry
creep back to black the beard buying drinks
each night making light ‘til less most
martyr like an ancestor red is the new
nothing who is one to attempt tackling
the big in you still young kneenoankle
high pea planted first of july sweat your
mountainside arms aren’t all the same might
hold tighter self-defense your defense only
with a license and I’ve no signature