Whole month cityscape blue a yes and month left the hands yes the hands. Parts they hook parts the melt the steal the hunger and vanity of the hands. The nose can taste the cityscape blue and eyes in you. Radio broken. Made soup used wine all the time all the times were birds who always flew home on sailors or alone all the sparrows they fly home in the night and this night please leave the light as they're groping
Hey without air I pour brut pour juice your mouth. I cannot understand how you sense the moment I will give up. You look in my neck. You let your hand dust as if by accident my body. Whole locked into you. A depth. You were strong you bent my will. I say I have been overcome you bent my will. In evening making crepes you slap my face I like it. Your coarse sweet hair. Rend me. Not in the way a lover holds a lover. But as you're testing how this could feel drawn down the tow.
Tried this before. Frost glass, drain plunger pokes cranium. I want hair like water.
This is reparable: a parable, retold. This is a make-up. Her empty house. I hold back.
I can't talk because I don't want to say the wrong name.
Don't call me that.
I am doing the best that I can
Vanity: you spit in your hand. Fingers slide down. Put your fingers in my mouth.
Each I taste feelings in you.
Slow down slow down slow down. Each change laid fallow. Lips heated by kiss lips. Heated
by. All springs dance. I feel her slipping on me. Now she.
Joseph Mains' poems appear in places like Shampoo, Anti-, Sawbuck, Hayden's Ferry Review, Tammy, Poor Claudia, and others. His collection, To Live Don's Life: A Film in 15 Creams was published in 2009. He lives in Portland, where he co-curates the reading series Sugar.