c. 
 
 

 forehead to forehead 
 laying down 
 in a circuit of bonded flesh 
 not thinking about us, 
 to something else,
 someone else’s breasts,
 someone else’s genitals
 
 eyes turn to anemone 
 in a macabre wind 
 -no other way- 
 locked in a room like a rose 
 in a glass bell/
 your veins are
 wisteria glass  
 green-blue 

rivers to press 
 occasionally 
 
 temple to forehead, forehead to temple 
 I detach from myself,
 not moving any muscle, 
 and you pick me up 
 from eyes and phallus 
 like it comes you natural 
 stopping the sandy liquid myself 
 between fingers 
 
 while inside you 
 a microscopic version of myself
 is sleeping
 on your eyes fundus,
 under the changing shadow 
 of your astonished iris 
 -expanding and contracting- 
 
 picking me up if I fall from me,
 pulling me down if I take off 



____________________________



your wept
 
 

 like a stupid animal 
 I’ll sleep tonight 
 in your blood 
 on your blood 

I’ll sleep
 -I’m more similar than you-
 
 like a silly animal 
 I’ll think about you tonight,
 looking like a thin hound 
 curling up 
 under fresh stars -June or not ones- 
 
 I’ll think about your compelled lips 
 about your dark almond eyes,
 about your skin 
 that is an entire land 
 -I am less moral than you- 
 
 only have your blood tonight,
 drying out too soon,
 and in that concept I’d drown
 on those dark stains on white canvas 
 -the night of the wept, the night it was- 
 I’ll sleep
 since summer coming 
 wears out

__________________

thank you, sincerely
giovanni s.