I didn't know all I needed was rapture. Only one of us can be real and it has to be me. Oh sparrows, the sky is dead without you.
Swallowing another salty stone. How easily I squeeze myself into corners. Gnawing bread.
Remember the party where I hacked my wrists with a knife and everybody screamed but nobody would touch me. Stumbling drunk through Burlington looking for a lake. It's easier than you think to switch stories.
Standards, drifters. "I hate the way I love you."
In my late thirties I realized the poems were about being saved, not found, and my life changed accordingly. What else but falling? The observer you are, the lawyer.
With what will you never meddle? Imagine my fear. My father howls in the afterlife because he remembers everything but the names of those he loves. "On your knees boy."
Her arms close, I did not reach her in time to be encompassed, this is how it always ends. North even a little, for those inclined to travel.
Post a Comment