mouth surfing (preverbs)

by George Quasha

1                                           on the pale trail of the pores on fire

Speaking with chilies in your mouth produces gustatory sweating. Think wild of
stones.

The poem finds itself resisting reading.
Heat back. Return to the sensible center’s facing the flame.

If there’s one sure thing it’s imbalance in denial.
Reading suffers the ledge to tone down silence.

2                                                            optimizing the inaccessible

Suck on her braid to abrade the tongue.
She teaches me to sit in landslide glory.

Lift your lips off the words and they run straight to me, she said. Maxims magnify
unsayable into optimal minimal.

And if the long–sought free point can’t access beyond ?
The hand writing races the line to end before bending back.

3                                      as one sense dulled the heart grew wider

Surfing surfaces like licking lips backtrack to tell their tale. There’s no reading
the same line twice.

Turning tables torque like facing faces.
Relax, there’s not much danger of a counterfeit free point.

Swallowing between words may yet sweat out the endorphins. Delphine
hormones predict the titillated tissue.

4                                                                     fire burns where it is

Look, the edgy boulder is contemplating its swivel.
And rolling stones release their tones.

The same line differs from itself to protect you from your mind. Pray for
spontaneous opinion combustion.

Her focusing mouth speaks hereunder steaming up the gaze. Dolphins, words, the
hot thought hearing the clearing cracks.