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and you said i was writing about us when i didn’t mean to because there was much still to do like not you but that is besides like not me but that is something else too which i have found in this writing about not us because there is nothing in nothing just the feeling … Continue reading
i think i am supposed to think less, because you told me when it is over it is over, and i asked what is there? what is after the edge? how is it that at the end of some ends, there is a crack, a light? you told me it was gobbledygook, another reason why … Continue reading
dear dear, loud geese have died quietly out my open window. jet black has covered their bodies in pylons and the civilized process that lead hands to hold hands. they look like mistakes, splats. the sky was too heavy, the ground even more so. it had snowed. it is snowing. they are freeze-dried now, as men … Continue reading
the following is sloppy. it makes me clean in the way simple dichotomies don’t. * is it possible to be tired of being tired is it okay to not know what it means to be okay how is it that here among the space of unwritten letters and ideas forgotten i have found the place … Continue reading
analyzing another night lost can we go back deflate the black made from balloons peel away the shade cutting each corner softly like a slow bleed walk a bit slower where i first held your hand water warming water running along to each beautiful place like the second time i did knowing the geography of … Continue reading
he was too long ago he was has it really been that much time he was ancient history found in the faraway look of a stone statue that would crack and leak loss on the world after years he was painting classes and hands held and blooming kisses in all the lovely locations that … Continue reading
where are the giants that were here mountains among mountains shadows of the sun those that told of the flowers petals that cut through grey that said in the brightest of emptied evenings filled with coffee and booze that you cannot live all the lives you wanted that saw see me so small when … Continue reading
wrapped in your arms, why can’t i feel you? maybe because it was in the sweat of summer when i first saw ice. it stood solid on a table, indifferent, cooling a fish that was long passed the hope of water. the air was thick with smoke, with the thoughts of how it will always … Continue reading
what is this useless bleeding? love is my wound, so it can’t be so bad right. you said this was wrong, that i promised never to write the break up poem, that this must be composed and decomposed in broken parts, that it is written in a language i don’t know how to speak yet, … Continue reading
how can it be morning when tonight is yet to be written? you’re there where the space of last night grows soft and still drifts. the waves whispered that i should do this, i can do this, i have not done this like the many things, will i pet that dog, need i pet a … Continue reading
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