Joseph M. Gerace

>Opportunity comes a dozen times a yearMix the sperm, the just-right egg, bakeThen paint on the makeup: Light rougeCoverup, eye shadow. Dig a man-high hole. Yesterday morning i locked a sun-lit swushing, algae-eaten stare in a mason’s jar.

>what bucks you about the rules? do not shout at women shout at mensuck yr fingers in public placesexpose yr toes to the city the grey sandwhichbe evil or mean(though you will be compelled towardHim constantly. stayaway, stare into the sun, beinnocent of Nothing never.)chew gum til the flavor fades swallow.

>Surprise, you steal soft basesRather than arch, thatPredatory flare stalking your spinePardoning fumes map your XIn a way particular to 0; The squek as well reminds oneOf poor, remembered smokeAround which fires chokeAnd whistling volleys provoke. Which is why i thought archery.More, as crushing a fib, fantasy From under what one imagines Are ashes, reaches…

>vacant basements of meat emerge when i close my eyes.

>What the vicious side saw past thornspast nothing protecting unsteady skina single stone kickeddown & loosing the hands’ avalanche greasy fingers rub againstbottled reaction, bubbling redthis one look, snow-shape wrappedaround something that oncecast breath. So often, I can tell what something is not: sewing needlestarving joymother love or contemptstrapless black bikinijacket wrapped, goose feathersa thing part of…

>smothered, absolutely smothered in the warmest two-armed velour bosom the phone’s receiver vaguely lipped over with black mold should any festooned trouble arise, remember, or  crack smoke rings with the best hand-me-down lips  yr handsome black-blue escape, remember, or argue the face in the island’s mirror unable to commit to the win things fall through…

>observing things, people at motionsubconsciously drowns a creeping starthey wipe across the sky — warm missileswith self-regulating (seismic) voices rinsingvoices, certain but unrelenting  the smella knee-high pile of leaves, dry branchesset ablaze creeping stars wipeacross my face flush with observationand stronger wrapped in purple, velvet cloth.

>Been a while, friendbut i still remembertastes of your skinbefore hands get lostlet me touch your hembreathes in me againignites that first nightforgotten memorieslong frozen rhymefuture i do recallwhen monstrous lust mustin glacial sweat fallthe ache towers tallreturns the bellow’s call

>the way you settled w yr pricey leather curvesreflected twice inside the perfect squaremouth-wide, beside dry eyesheave a matching leather bag with skinnyshoulders. you are ruined, spreadacross this royal path to my bedblankets velvet, why do you thinkour sky-high pirouettes are shaped likethis gently bent negative spacefrom where yr shudder originates?

>1. Outloud, too loud to be heard, count the memories passed by 2. The dismissive vein tapped into daily 3. All walls, being higher than others,must or must not terminate at both ends 4. The designs of beauty preclude you —boomeranged, bent into a parading affair