slap the beat across his back,
nails strum the strings hard-
tongue contorts, the violation of song-
storm that rises in and out of his chest:
...
it was nothing, spider web strung from branch to blade, and back again-
it meant nothing, comets entering our atmosphere-
...
when i think
of all the clean words
i used to use on you
and how
...
you've gone now,
given up on the idea
of who we were to be together-
...
A night, spent in the agony of being.
The first to wake,
first to walk: cocked eyed and fractured soul-
Morning comes before sunrise can wake the world.
...
I will never be apart of a radical movement,
except for the one inside the soul
that pits the spirit against the ghost-
...
If memory serves:
there was a dark pool in my dreams
that you were bathing in-
and the moon, or rather, its other self
...
kneeling between the corn-rows
I heard you
speak to God
as though
...
there should be more to write then just simply goodnight-
and where are the stars, no word from the moon; where is your heart?
time is a duplicate lover and the wind is always vanishing,
like a forgotten lover always promising to come back one day.
...
Everything is about him-
and on days when I feel
like drinking the stash of wine and whiskey
he’s saving for a special occasion- instead
...