Sexual

Unpeeled oranges,
 in an overrun alley,
   Sewage as is seen
from the sky,unrelenting
  in its corruption

Visions out of romance
   have families stated,in them- 
the rope is tightest
   near the knot.
  
 From that point  

Back and fourth, if
   you were to walk,
 brow tipping the sunshine
    with a pint of shame,
 
unable to tell,two legs,apart
 for reason-
   momentary injustice

 "What do you do for oranges"
someone asked,and
    into the mouth of the wolf
  i howled

The missing tooth

On a not so common night,
searching for an aching
tooth in the backyard-
that new river sound
now,turned into loss,
I dreamt of pain
all night long,holding
one arm with the other.

Parapet after parapet
I keeled over,breaking
in and out of sleep
like concentric circles
I drew when i was five years
old,convinced with a sense
of incomprehensible gravity
that they were to be my
greatest attempt at art.

How playful can
asymmetry in life be-
unapologetically giving
me a mouthful of reasons
to smile each morning

Pete, the hearthrob

If his parsnip cemented breath does not
create his locale,the size of his car does.

People believe his mind is its own erection-
that in his own image he is the utmost

that can be achieved,by him.Guilty of such
self pleasuring,and uncommon support

Pete still dreams of having grit, like his teeth,
and the ambition that subtends it;

His history written by women,purporting
the one he writes himself-cross-bred vanity

The theatre of his general exposition,is often
conducted on muscle-either his,or of his machine,

a common place,where depth
is yet to be extended to.
 
He can be seen driving across the parking lot
with the speed of light-zero to something in some seconds,

before he brakes at the exit ,as if
the cracks in his glass frames,actually existed.