sum

the following is the aftermath of promising to never do poetry again. the following is also not poetry.

*

when was the last time

you stopped measuring

the length of now

the instant between when things

were figured out

and when they were not

how often you would say um not for a filler

but because you are already filled

with the sum of a language languid and dead and bursting here

on a tongue but not

on eyes but there are other things to look at

like that when when you were there with her

in bed

with very little money

very strong coffee

and you were steeped in sun

saying how you wish to stay here

where there is jazz music

if only you don’t listen

there are birds

if only they don’t learn to fly

where the fires burn without smoke

and the water breathes without drowning

and the words mean nothing at all when said

for that was then

this is now

and both are too long ago