what I do I do with my days? I offer them anything.
like a baby who mouths a junebug
I would without question naturally
broom fondled to the fuck of my thinking
rain whips a roof’s slate
I swallow liquids uninterruptedly
insects tilt and float
let all things be in the house, I say
incline to damp air, saliva
residue from the root of a shoe
eat if you’d ask it
give it up to god
give it up so fast
envious of spit in the pan
when it gets greasy
envy the floor’s relationship to humility
a window whose vision seeps
overgrown with asymmetry
no one, no one,
no one
nothing is too precious
discovering twigs in clean sheets
today I will lotion myself expertly
and refer to middle floors
and the deeper floors
in the fuck of me
to love where love’s only an obstacle--
it’s too easy
the sky opens hard and quickly
I acknowledge it got destructive which is true
tell me you love me
not once, not twice
but in such repetition
the neighbors still hear
in memory
stretch into vacant morning
feral to a form taking place
to be inlove, inside love
wanting every grasp
into each other
so heady and consuming
it can only exist in moments
how perverse
how optimistic
white sheets were
you say no
say my name
say I
love you
tell you I want a baby of you
when I wouldn’t wish birth
on anyone
arriving again at myself, how hateful
tonight I feel nothing but disgust
I am the bed, I am the wall
the whole room
with the sound of
fuck you, fuck both
our names
I ash your cigarette, hand it back
lucky against memory
morning has again blinded me
I make an attempt at hatred
but having decided it’s you I love
hate is lost to my inability to see
one day, one of us will make sure
to never meet the other again
tell me in sadness, who is it that you love
before time alters
it could’ve gone many ways
but it went how it went
I fell back asleep in your bed
as if to experience the day twice
bare in early sunbeams
circular drip over coverlet
refusing the shower’s wisdom
to let sleep take me again
how I dreamt in only
a continuation of days
is time judged
or is time felt
we pulled apart distances
lunar hours, phases
before fate intervened
some see time as a soul’s expansion
some say we don’t exist inside time but are time
no longer checking bills
no longer paying accounts
let sleep do it for me
I say time is an effect of forgetting
in all my dreams you appeared
as alternate versions, not quite you
as if I knew too much
from presence to memory
I no longer cared
what happened to my body
or an idea of a future I once had
all that mattered was returning
to sleep in your bed
even if we never captured
a life’s shape together
you invented new styles of fucking
not a space to move through
but a way to sequence flow
existence occurring irreversible
from past, present eternal
through to future
if I were you, I’d’ve been exhausted too
fate returned by way of separation
one or both intervened
in time as money alone
left with love’s image
in all its early beauty
in some way I’m still there
or your bed is here,
where I’ve remade you
a poem
clouds the astral window
a virgin moon
clings to daytime
barely perceptible