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Othello Wolf

by: Coop Lee

america; americultus; americate : : dubiously masturbate.
::: gold flaked bodies.
blackbirdian danceparty::: i’ll go.
washed up beach bottles and all our feet amongst them ::: curling paper. curling time.
teens dream in orchid; they wait for stars and dark and los hombres of good dust.
they wait on eyes, and on embers; belly belly.
flashlight shrine.
we eat acid and strawberries and butter in the cemetery,
and feed foxes lizards face-first;
us lost fuckers on school nights.

flash tag jazz, and yellow bicycles,
::: that hot eternal light.
the candy colored smoke don’t smoke; go south on her body.
thoughts form thoughts form actions form twangs all tuned
to air; and we; as notes; us notes : :harp like light to dust:::
videoed naked our multi-speckled strands;
our gliserting hormonal thrusts. beneath sheath of liquid layer:::
her eyes. drink, drink you bending girl.
you glowing guzzling girl :::
you seed from my cock.

pearled halo: smoke above my head.
::: waves and machines and weekends.
filtered by the long suck of cosmolessence,
boys wait in rooms of hotels for more drugs, and the girls bringing them :::
like caterpillars on silky thin treadways, with nothing but
the flavor of our passions to ignite the way. we
exacerbate the tips of our sweatiest intentions. we
curl under sheets, twisting sheets of light and sound. we
flakey emaciated flakes; sequence suffered time in motion. we
dirt. it’s what we are; dirt.

as druggernaughts, we taste ourselves along the glittering rim.
::: we crawl up cross-glown hillsides towards portalz, &
faraway bleep-blorps of hot calibration, sticky-crackle go burn.
:::nature puzzles:::
the brain shifts back, twenty-one grams they say you weigh.
they say things.
cherry blossom tree tips in the dark.
teletube surfing with an intergalactic pizza priest, and his satchel of secret sauce.
his heaves in the
corner: rebirth.
tendrils pulled tight, everybody wang chung