She denies me the end of the story, it makes me cold. I brought nothing in the form of dollars and can I use these dollars as time to quit my job? It will certainly help, every twenty four hours is an hour. And it tells me to sing along to myself, to my voice, to the wonder at what I’ve been reading. If I can use my fellowship money to buy books won’t you love that? I’ll transition to the next person. Everyone in the group home has a unique smell, it swallows their closed system room in sleepgauze. I want to pray with you, whether I like it or not but I like it, to attract spirituality to the cusp of consciousness I pat my hand on my head and I’ve driven my car into the hot carport remember how easy it is to tell time when all the desert sprinklers are on down timers. Are you sleeping from your medications. Are you sure all the money we put into you would pay off. And locking myself into my room will never work. If I work with you will that be all right? You are signed up for how many credits each semester, no way to work it out, no gut, no jibe, no sail, no tribe if I belong in language appraise me, I am the arbiter of my excitement I excite myself against anything waxing, it makes me gay. It excises gilt and morse and marshmallow fluff allows itself to the hourly rate of growth. Can’t I sell the muscular of the expectations, maybe all of us will continue to smoke cigarettes together, straight men are too much they have such bodies, indescribable though not sexy just solid in a way I can’t describe myself. Over indulgence was never my way, I tried it and then sobered. I forgot to enjoy indulgence, everything rote. Every thing at the tip of production, this lack I expose every time I fire. Could a child be my new focus. None of us have children, I knew you were a bottom. You don’t have to pretend I’m straight I see further. I see sensitive ouch eyes on the sky don’t I see you and your smeary voice all over my perception. Sense like a grey balloon all over the matter. I am hurt by too much together, communication best at one remove and considered. Books are the best, people Books are the best people. I want that form of love crawling up my leg. I check on your eyeline and I want to know how I’ve found you here. Another burden on the tip. The truth of where you sent me was my own journey you never initiate. I’ll rearrange my body to accommodate you. No sensuality on your part. Apricot preserves and butter and cheese and bagel bread taste well together. Well water, too. I want your background in my vision sense. I want to help create in you the vision of what I love. If you want to sell to me ask me about minutes the verbs lathe and laze. Craze, maze, daze, belize and marching the martial beat one craves. The language is the open prison. If I were to walk outside of it I could never report. Never come back home, it being the anchor, nautical, landbound and land covers water underneath on all below edges. I mean land exists as a sleeping stone for water. God being land and water prayer. I wipe away my badlands with balm. Prayer is deeper than God and land and language and metaphor and water, is more pure than the word pour. Is more soulchilling. Is more shoutable. If I shout my prayer, understand I mean it as a talking cure. Roundabout being constructed in town, maybe I’ll visit you over my break—maybe I will cancel class for a few days to visit with you. I would love to get to know you, in Albuquerque I haven’t tapped into the gay community, whereas in Cleveland and Seattle I have. I not torch. I not broken stage. The whipper is the sun tri-bled and colorwhipped. I create the new word in significance of old. and is a poem a prose solution. to what indurance problem as a whisper tags. Slish of the towel around your expectant hips that have been wanting. A kiss is a want unfulfilled. No kiss ever done. Is ever done, is ever completed, is ever the action taken. Is ever the thought gooed. A recommendation of who we love. Our friendship asks for your creativity. Asks for dynamics. Asks never to be done, and isn’t. Because printing seems final and the sound of production so soothing. Hence the engine. Hence, look back and be impressed but here now is where minds meet. You will remember the way the dead butterfly shocked you, interoffice memorandum, I thought you wouldn’t be afraid of dead mice either. If you have a second, see it out. I don’t know how many of you are modeled on other behaviors, I will claim you as a friend. If I pop in and out, a compliment. I am my own weekend. No one holds me. I can’t be separated from my wife. And when I love your relationship, I never feel jealous. Some single energy, raw, unsuck, printless, mitigated, the opposite and back around. Of the way the words are priories. Are possible musk and scent travels and waves its silly hothead ness. Essence! and the green trigger in the garden/forest/moon/scarp/lesson/belligerent facsimile/lesson/gradation/stalwart ness/belive/armour/mustard/standing one/standing wave/chord/chortle/swandiv/blinker. So you see the dilemma/road production simples and I will set the repeat blaze as a kitten printing itself as a war—who believe it. Oh ode oh fresh orange juice oh senses I am full and so overwhelming. Nothing I create is new and marching it’s all re molding and British in its strange newness the way I hear you shift in your morning periodic/we are all in the life we allow/could I choose for myself a different path I have a job already. I can tell you about it. Don’t be alarmed at my honesty. I told you I wanted to quit as soon as I knew. It was nothing beholden. It was the crinkle of brain that certainly you felt, too, sensitive as what I appreciate about you is your deep spirituality, all of us seen to be much and lovely. I am a sound like too much pornography. Peeing is always your best bet because it seems so tender and voluminous, like the moon is sunlighting. A shade drawn a tissue A blinker never dries out, only darker. And the tid tiddle taddle of appreciation. If I ever see a compendium this will be a lovely future, a loving prick has the coy aftertaste of having been seen. I am a doctor. Okay I am a doctor. Okay. And bit and a raccoon I am a bit. Am I a bit raccoon, small part in a play, punctured, no one bleeds as hot as a deer mouth imagines. Not to suckle but to bray. I want those eyes beyond dead. Not to see but physicality.