Karmine on holiday

At the itinerant film in the brambles
you brought me roses and crystals,
a smell of freshly laundered clothes
and the farm heat.

Let me touch the desperate fault lines
with the memory of the desert
in a continuity needed for delights;

I’ve laid the mattress for whoever has stopped comparing,
tilling the Sunday grass.

A diamond-insect over the keyboard and pardon yourself.
We’re building love: I
– the boss of nothingness/of phosphenes
in the grass between the stable and the diapers.

Winter aerobics
with a window to Local Bus Station,
in concert on the yacht, then ‒
with worldly you (you wanted fondling).

I was whispering grade F philosophy,
doofus me, so you’d tell me veeery goood.

A latex-like pizza
and very costly lips,
gymnastics, yay ‒
a bit of unamerican happiness, so:
such spirals ‒ that we conversed
while dreaming of those who knew the miracle buttons
to touch everyone at once.

& we get and revere
androgynism only
when the spotlight holds
no more little models of the edgy barely
just falling in love.

baby adore

The ethereal link
was paddling through curses.
You: credulous, mesmerised
by life on the wall and by sequins.

You adorable one, I destroy you
– with unlimited trips,
the formatting strategies
on my knees;
wet like this, and mean,
and penetrating.

Been on buses since I was 12,
on opium, on munchies
not and money, love…
to give happiness
from Rare-Content.

I measured a bunny.

They licked off nervures.

Dew drags on.

Hey, you mild one,
how’s your soul “imitosis”?
how’s your soul “eternal joy”?
how’s your soul “no paragon”?

eternal joy eternal joy eternal joy

The Hideous

There’s violence plenty
in the human too.

I prefer shrillness:
the poetry of flowery wallpaper
recited behind the wheel.
Levers and damp cartons.

An emperor seduces by immunotherapies ‒
an updated training,
but we’ve awakened on weed.

Entropy does and undoes.
We’re not dividing you and we maintain the animal.
I’m on the ropes, honouring kindness.
My insomniac’s song ‒ it’s a pink bow
‒ millimetric intuition

 milking your black will.

Decline and hierarchy ‒ boss-man,
god, stupid Scorpio,
he’ll eat nature out of your palm
and you still get mad.

Man, glee among tuners
humbling anything,
I’ve surpassed you.

I go on loving.