New and silly love poems

mike swanberg

Hey


I have traveled all this way to say hey
Again and again in your bed our faces
Hardly apart, hands always touching something,
Something, something moving quickly now
Like a fox late for work

And we keep announcing ourselves.
Hey and then quiet and then hey
And then kisses and no horses
And no music, sometimes music

And another circle spinning
And I am tracing you with my index finger
And I am building a small split level house
And it is on the ridge of your hip
And the surrounding property is low lying
And it might take a full day to walk
And I am lacing up my boots
And it is morning, still dark.



sebastian marcos smith puts in his two weeks



It is with a heart as light as a birds ribs
That I leave poetry, farewell Or don’t,
It is a girl now hopping around in puddles,
shoes soaked, I am building you a timeshare
in my chest, oh sweet thing in a sweater
in a t shirt, in my bed saying everything

then hours and hours of no poems, who should miss them?

It wasn’t me that said all those things in my poems
And this isn’t me who renounces that, she arrives
Thin as a whisper she, comes fully into my arms
And then kissing up the stairs

Who wants to read an only smiling poet?
Who could tolerate finding a forgotten twenty
In almost every pair of jeans?

Oh forget it, im retired, if that last image
Isn’t earned (and im almost certain it is not)
My sweet cousin called long distance

There is a boy I love, she said, and I have given
Him allen ginsberg's howl.



Wild Ginger in Chris' back yard.

I kiss her goodbye on the train and think
This morning when she said lets spend
The whole day in bed I said no but I meant yes

Damn the consequences, I would touch every inch
Hold my hand right above her flame
Push her fingers deep into my mouth

Oh I would pull myself to nothing from nothing
Spinning wildly like a dog, barking up her tree
Chasing her kisses like rabbits to the fence
And then digging and digging and knowing only
What dogs know, sweet burn of muscle
Flight flight flight across grass that needs mowing
An itch on my back that I am rolling in the fresh mulch
To scratch

I should have thrown the alarm clock right down
Onto the boulevard I should have made a joke
“why did the boy who wants for nothing
throw his alarm clock out the window?”