Transfinite tenderness

our hands spiralling 

poorer or richer 

vibrant pain

alone

dying for 

future 

flammable 

body of hours 

one

Time & Redemption

...it blossoms without why...
...roses tic-tac and explode...
...this is Time, the Unredeemable...

I love all times 

in one mouth 

kissing here 

burning here 

dilemmas of pasts 

dilemmas of futures 

more than possible 

warm breasts 

perspiring milky ways

overflowing babies

at once all times

desire one mouth

the burning kiss

redemptor sive delyrium (?)

Master Beta

I never saw poorer girls lost within Summer Tales, missing the signs of mine, born in a clamour only, while rebirth plays the part of the dragon serpent from infancy

Drink me, or give me that spring of life where some language lasts and says rose robe nude in the same sentence. I believe in nudity with infinite futures whispering on stage

my hitting the road of senses with lust and perfume, my avoiding the road, my dodging the road and the crossroads where my father, my blood, my mask... share More than my sweet love's flower, my idea of despair touching the face in vain, not kissing, agitated, 
who rocks most? who pursues most? 
  
my becoming Thunder on the seashore, age of skin. I believe in bodies drinking me or giving me that More unknown breaking my next hollow kiss, more lips than flesh, more text than flowers, at exactly this moment, vortex 

Not kissing rocks the hour and questions the hour 
and bites too much
two poems hasting to breastfeed the momentum, not kissing, 
who rocks most? who begins most?

the plot one dilemma two poems 
and if bodies in between claim the denied hour the truth climbs till the skin of furor
furor amoris vox clamantis insomnia

memory maps foretell the force you drink me
rounded with other plot and cosmos you are the book  

Master Alpha

Tell us a story, Alphabet. 

Once upon a time my rage wandered wildly, complicating the world and its octopus of silence. 

My rage had many packs of wolves and kettles of hawks. 

It was a stormy night and desire seated under the text. 

My rage had also many guitars and much more strings. 

It was a stormy night and truth began like hunger for a face.

My rage danced over soft waves laden with that chaos you did not dream of.  

Tell us a story capable of drinking the seven seas, Alphabet

It was a stormy night revolving around the Island and the Firehouse of my impossible loves. Darkness undid my evidence and fell like my first distress, deep down.

Breathing costs much far too much extremes

The end is addicted to sugar and gambling

I am stressing tomorrow my rest

the surface in quest of edges

life displaces gods less drinkable than virgin blood or symbols dying for symbols

you navigate wide temples black swan 

where the map cries out between vacuum Alpha and vacuum Beta

Antarctica connects our staircases without the art of doubting 

before and after spelling

Alphabet leans on me and tells nothing 

but the Great War of Surprises

draining loves from bodies to streams

equations melt in the future chapter of a hurricane

and change my study of genitalia in butterflies

Reverse us a story, Alphabet