lick my

wounds and dry

my raccoon eyes

you’re a fox with weathered feet

and a proud nose

let the bumblebees buzz baby, let me play the blues and write you simple dirty little songs i’ve got plenny of words and two hands the lord done made just the right size to fit in yours i went to beach yesterday and dragged my toes into the sand to spell your name waist deep in salty bathwater oh i could smell it and it healed me i’ve been sick for ( Read more... )

lord forgive me for my misgivings and badhabits and poor visions under the influence of six pitchers good friends (met last week but i’d give my life for them, truly, such is the nature of the service) foxy bartenders and stories of farflung ports and farer-flung fianceés lord forgive the sailors they only know the seas they sail they love wives ( Read more... )

wildflower,
let me watch
you grow

let me admire
your yellow petals,
soft lighthouses for little bugs
like me

let me meditate
on your arched green back
opening your chest
to the warmth above

let me water
you and give you what
you need to flourish

wildflower,
let me love
you and never try to
tame you

"If she'd lived, and could have come here with me, maybe I could have told her something, made her feel different. Maybe I'd just make love to her and say nothing" (93).

All great works are dedicated to women in some fashion, or maybe I'm just paranoid.

but in the mean time darlin till i see ya and that big ole grin come trottin down my cracked old sidewalk with ya dress twistin side't'side with each easy stride ill be in my little garden out back juss covrin my hands with care-lina mud and sewin watermellon seeds into the earth and hoein neat little paths fcritters and mice too to take theya lil ( Read more... )

written through the eyes of Charleston, South Carolina, stinging with sweatsalt and sea breeze, through a mouth speckled brown with wet tobacco, and a rockin chair leanin slowly back on my porch and to be read, only aloud, as such ( Read more... )

i never know what i'm writing about until i'm done, and that last one...a nice read for me. i'm glad i wrote it. these past weeks i've been on an incredible streak -- never running out of words to say but typing madly about how i want to say nothing at all -- divine ( Read more... )

standing tall take a knife and stab it into the notch where my collarbones meet and drag it straight down, out pours water and diamonds and old photographs wrinkled and stained with whiskey lips nights spent laid on my side clutching them and writing love letters on the back let it spill on the floor and wash away: written in cursive to show ( Read more... )

just finished big sur. it's positively insane reading this page pointing and underlining and screaming (in my head as to not disturb the cooking party downstairs) that i have felt the exact same thing, i always thought two people necessarily experienced the same situation differently but perhaps i've learned something today and will fall asleep ( Read more... )