New Love Poem

Her legs in my life, a love at the
skin night
and day.

Conversing with flesh, a light
now found,

last conjured today; moons
eternal, moons as alive waxen,

perpetuity of our spiriting sense:

this seasoned morning. A

loving on her new skin.

Reach, her grasp inside blue light
interrogating hearts upon

unappeasing fingers,
unpressed, miles like her new touch
surrounding my new

in company:

our extensive glow–

space, a soundless heat, the
shaving chest
inscribed the bellows

of breathing rib, new objects–
gesticulating, set in memory’s

receipt of our cast-iron apple
cinammon seed:
my opened mouth, my wild

I inhale. Bowed now in full, her
smiling quenched.

I, So Liking

I, so liking to enjoin myself to observe,
and to deeply hold her mind

well worked into
mine, all holding–inside it, in mind.

So, enjoyed to liken, then, not-
nothing regardless of reality-fielding

irregularities dotting her tees, her: she,
criss-crossing my two eyes.

Laughing, no longer lasting apart while fallen

threshing truths on the venom of hefted lips.

Henry’s Stuyvesant

The thrill of safety sounded, a thrill of
safety loosed. An assail forward,
‘for the future’:
just about the poem’s
right mind.

per inch, what happened now
but of an heir
to one mercurial rule.

Veiled stitching/
pealed ivy restrains
a lake: of black hue.

Contain, communicate,
break within weight–
a hold.

“This is what we are
doing” cited,
read as such,
fever written
on a city.

for an uncertain
inattentive (having been away).

penned stabbing
of dust, tiled floor,
carpeting Henry’s Stuyvesant.