2026
02.01
I hold you in
my hands, slip
of clay surround
each crease, my fingers.
A single affection
scaffolds, spiral
staircase; making, curving
smooth rock.
Material, spiraling upwards;
a tender bellow over,
collapsing like petals
from a bulging stem.
Sculpture is
a surface, the trace
of wind on sand, dance
rests gently along.
Structure is
porous,
a submissive provision that needs
a clause.
Commemorate is
a person,
event, an infinitesimal piece
of my existence.
Two structural dots
and an arc sculpted
on paper, maybe
it is too
simple.
Digits, matter, too, you, I love
Everyone has
fingers, an empathetic
treaty to the verb
of it all.
You know what I mean.
02.16
Gary across, he observes: 6ft, attractive hygiene and he's a really nice guy.
Suggestion to swap spit felt like a cotton swab around the tongue, poking for venereal traces. Bacterial footprints, stamped into the cheeks, survive a minty flush.
Gary, back home, a mouth for a culture dish, leaves a retainer lining of his teeth; flecked with courtesy, compulsion, and lust, glistening on his side table.
There's a megalodonic shelf above, higher to the dissolution becoming, where each morsel of his date lifts off, carrying space for inspection.
Gary is learning. That these misty, gossipy, vignettes excite the edge of his gay almanac, he's carelessly distracted for vanity's sake.
Clinical affirmation, across-the-table, femme students, divine vulnerability gambits fold everything, in the name of sexual pedagogy.
Intellectualism by quantity, sample size of a population. Each, a dot strewn; eventual volume forms with ass cracks. Gravitational gorges, collapsing, wedge him deep inside.
Variegated streaks the gorge wall. Gary carries the weight of ethnographic research– the dignity of each dot, a bead of sweat, suddenly evaporates.
Deep in the valley, Gary's head spins around a thick, bound book, pages dedicated to a sweet still life (duvet indents, threaded perfume, a mouth guard, misty, moist molecules, an idle finger).
03.07
Wander around
the subject, not
too obviously I catch
glimpses though.
Rather pulling at
intentions, like
out loud text
bubble assemblage, pastiche
intonations reframe
the good the bad and the fugly.
Getting, along
the fork in
the road, messy
phrases and sloppy behavior
wander around hahas
and preferential hehes.
Touchy tattoos but
its oddly technical,
just like
the nature of activity
based models.
As a granular
approach, it
adds frequency;
chic, no?
A meditative breath
honors: "this is
how life is supposed to be,"
because of a body
archive collecting
ferromagnetic whispers.