Monsoon

Wet, you.

Oppressive, you.
Humid, you.

The smell,

…you.

BFM

Mothers See

The right hand is darker than the left. An apple is flecked with yellowish specks. Peeled tangerines sit on a blue and white checkered tablecloth. Horses are ridden.

Schooners hoisted sails fill the innocent bay with blood stained sheets, puffed up and out, gliding hulls through skipping waters. Gulls squawk.

Mothers standing on crescent shores seeing there daughters number, 543, 782 or 314, hoisted, skipping into bluer waters.

B.F.M.

Drank Drunk

I gathered my-me, my-self, my-I under the silver maple’s spout. I unlatched the hatch that covered the cup that’s hidden in my head. I drank drunk her unfettered liquor hoping to cure the hole that is my chest. However after all the ounces, cups and pints I drank, my gray matter started to crank, first left, then right. I spin ‘til spun falling deep in grass where I slept under a quarter moon’s light, ‘til two roots of Ms. Maple ascended pulling and pushing me through Br’er Rabbits doorway, hall, bedroom, bath, down his drain a thousand leagues beneath her leaves that gathered stardust for her toes, as the roots dangled mine three feet above flame bringing her consumed liquor to boil, then steam, then distilled. drop. drop. drop.

B.F.M

Giddy-up-pony

I like when her hands 

slip into 

the small of my back

like a giddy-up-pony

at the county fair.

B.F.M.

Betrayal

Though you say
the morning cock crowed
I was miles away.

B.F.M.

Love Poem 22,314

Mosquito bastard
loitering, piercing,
diseased, delirious.
Love.

B.F.M