she who she be

she who snuffs snark signalsmoke
she who stares down steep flint
she who recycles sturgeon parts
she who gives all tit to all babe
she who writhes in written alacrity
she who is the pungent sagacity dumped
she who owls in the cliff eaves
she who bars the sand of lard and lord
she who makes indie bands of outie bellybuttons& helps undies do wedgies
she who endures lame graffiti centurions
she who sells postcards printed on cedar
she who invites callous water about hour's neck
she who eats men not real fast
she who is standing over underwatched eddy
she who glasses over the current
she who calls swimming eating pcbs not pbjs
she who lugs my cog to the crater
she who abandons loneliness as monument
she who sells nothing to everyone frequently
she who marries the mountain by taking it
she who deigns to chomp at my innards like spaghetti
she who rubs the kittens alive
she who wears wars for appendages
she who smiles down on eventual fertilizer
she who graces the grease of our ancestors on the warpath
she who inspires cocky strokes over frigid waters
she who eats with eight hands of timeless digital precision
she who lights the columnar basalt
she who appears nondoubleplussed at exponential returns
she who rides on her lover with horsepowers
she who games ivory gears of ghosts
she who is us wheezing out the roe
she who is our memory gland
she who gives face to the monsters of deep
she who heads off
she who words carelessly on purpose
she who is normed by honkies in indian paint
she who darns dams with the silt of dinosaur droppings
she who endlessly begins to melt hot power
she who loans lust to drift net dreamers
she who gusts useless turbines
she who digests but cannot absorb her carbon playthings
she who gets all the credit and doesn't know how to waste it
she who is ok
she who is still intimate in my resonating skinwishes
she who is wife and temerity dissolved
she who is sage smell
she who is scrawling inscrutability itself
she who drives hard thrives to weepwillowshoots
she who homes in on stone carved souls
she who gives up never and takes our time
she who gnaws so much our tides are dizzy
she who makes jerky underwater by pinning us to old growth basalt
she who cooks by moon fire
she who quits the starters as the races unite
she who draws too many lines in sand and carves the firmament
she who peaks late
she who roars my teeth off the mantle
she who knots forgiveness with page marks radioactive
she who makes my being wampum to trade
she who dodges me still on so called planet family
she who watches.