Table For... You?

Table for two?

No.

One.

One more

Hit wonder

One liners

Born every minute

Une nuit

Yeah, one piece

Suit for sharing

One eyed jacks

And up

In a million

One on one

One off

For all

An eye or shoe

Pair of pearls

Where's my shoe?

One pound

Of prickly pears

One egg missing

A room

One way

Cul de sac cunt

No return

1 above

Above none

You

Not some

ça dépend des goûts

the test subject's testosterone tested and reported By a radio reporter Baubo busted down a bathroom door to show us her with her panties down the moss missing on the garden pond so simply cut this out and put it with the cache: a pillow under my head sit down hand tying and not typing up bad hand writing (what would Mr.English think?) pull the top back put the hood down and remind me what i recovered from there's a crash in a desert of desserts and stressed recipes the almost given up going east vocal stomach song ass bursting nerves (not on sale in a butcher's display) toilet pep talks and I know in advance this is an advantage i should hold don't show the cards a bella figura in blue night my hands in my cuffs covering hers not buzz beyond content at the joint the symbol and wrapping and my craned neck lips to back to tits to the barcode butterfly The most glorious thing I've witnessed without hallucinating the firmness and nearness the adultdress nightdress tights under top my tshirt panties all had to be removed while i covered up the mind and towards the end i didn't deter i kept on and though she may not have thought that'd be the first thing I'd do as it's not that often but it was clear in my cloud head and that shows an interest a comfortable side to my patina and my difference

Sea Legs

As he packed up Leaving behind remnants and cobwebs And tenancy dust We broke this bed: Support straps snapped The map of France flopped Ships in the sea The legs gave way.

Tourists at Petit Dejuner

All showered, shitted and shaved Armpits, pussies, legs Men in denim Shorts and shirts (all with hair) At 7 a.m there's no one Younger than me I'm on concentrated juice And coffee, no sugar They stack plates: Ham, jam, pastries How saccharine These couples that have Curled and cuddled As I curdle without G My guarantee I can't help from looking outside We get a taxi to the airport And abandon We don't book Or research We go where we see A sea from a room I get up and groom Clip and nip and lay On marble Waiting for a breakfast Of honey Ham and sugar.

LIPSINKING

These are lyrics to cervelle musique (avec ou sans capers) I'm in Seville kicking peeled orange skins At pigeons that don't know where Worms wiggle. My kidless kidneys dance On the other foot The white robe worn Is a hotel bathrobe My hand in my pocket Feeds snails named Alanis and Anaïs Who else: Henry Miller. And after Plucked from the garden Fucked into a brown bucket To shit it all out: A detox for death to be delectable. My pupils have been lessoned Regarding this photo of us It opens my pours I'd swear on the heart of Christ If i'd jamais met 23 versions of your shape And look my search would constantly Be to try and find a switch to finger Not a trigger But you are A floodlight.

Licking Out Logarithm

Your Da sends you a picture, Of your camera, Post quake, what scale And I think of (though you haven't asked) sniffing the ravine's curve, diving into you on the Costeria Amalfitana, demain demons, Frizzante bottles In the fridge of a Rented room by a freddo sea as seagulls shit and scrounge. The discovered city's clitty, semi dry holy wine and cantucci, Che figa, the cissy chapel, the mortadella bella, lumache l'amore, the letto macchiato, meravigiosa meals In our hotel, And the headline hangovers that vanish in fume lava and ash As I eat gnocca for breakfast- the paper unread, coffee cold, the dog huffing, by the closed door.

Lean In

You've pondered, that's plunder Too much thinking, Thinking 'bout thinking, Me thinks Meta, Fuck off you. A red carpet stroll, Casual capsule, Catspulted and crowbarred. I'm funny too: Jaded in gaol Gloves in the toilet bowl Fingers wrapped 'round cold bars covered in cocoa. A jug raised (to us), With slick sangue of a hare; My key pulled out of a stomach And left to be rained on.