sat at my desk

simple little pieces

call up from the depths

miniscule in stature

but important as the rest

saying hold me, hold me

i don’t know what’s going on

saying i want her, i need her,

to feel her, silken and giving

and beside myself with hunger,

ravening, to taste her, make

her breathe, sink my teeth,

come inside her, wild and

stuttering and crying out.

to feel good for once in

this while. to care less about

the outside and its wiles.

to be simple, animal,

spiritual and nuzzling her

body, spreading warmth and

appreciation through mine



i have turrets and shields,

outward-facing bulwark,

designed with defense in mind,

an obligation to externalized

focus. an axiom and a proverb

passed on from mother to child.

you are worthless.



but I don’t believe in that.

and I have vile anger against it.

this anger is acidic and specific in

its position. it is submerged in

a wave of love. you are worthful.

you are worth it. you are like

the forest and the fields, the sun

on high grasses



and we worry, we fret. something

bad will happen to me. and I’m sorry

that’s what we expect. but we don’t know,

like a coin has two sides, and atoms

hold charge, and you’re right

to think that there’s such a spectrum

of outcomes, infinite potentiality,

like a cloud of ionic energy. and

you’ll be found somewhere in it,

and we don’t know where, but I

know I’ll be with you.

c’mere.





the place that contains the list of the containers of words