by Morgan Lucas Schuldt
In this surround, above the downs,
are my kind of live.
An mmhmm her
fever-few-&-far-between.
Cherry get, if gotten you be.
Otherhow unhindered by the things
of me. Things like: junk-hold lungs,
bouts with be, the umm-hush & long static of kinda can.
Are twenty-six flavors of -elicious
& what-if’s head-fuck nagging blood-back for more
cream & rush, heave & shush––
dirt-back glares having some pull over the percentages.
No tut-tut strut, no lapse in gush. Just holier than wow –
an old-fashioned dumb-lovely ahh yes! suitable for basking.
Sheer towardness, raredear, I’d sky-write
a surrender for.
Little red likelihooded
I lust so much.
~~
[From THIS RECORDING]
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