summer small nights
will still be bit by bit
for a little while longer
not black but a
choked gray night
smokespread still
lit with stars & wildfire

rays bounce & shimmer
back to us with such
smothering heatwaves

he wavers between
me & a wide window
i strike an incorrigible
tongue seek mischief
toss good intentions
into the arms of fresh
& inevitable morning

shrunk pupils in hazel
irises yawn wide &
embrace electric spark
brushfires he spreads up
the mountainsides of me

fingertip test those taut
ropes bundled beneath
the tan sweatscented
skin of his broad back

too tired from our
earlier tugs of war
he sprawls a laid
claim on these bed
& body territories

so i roll & scribble
silent in a rogue
streetlamp beam
through blind slats
my moment's mood

'til i can no longer
shrug off a lone
limb's snake over
my perched shoulder

it slips & sidewinds
catching me in his coils
with soft hiss laughter

but what if all my
darlings
are already dead

fishing & i caught
nothing except a
desperately needed
natural green shade
of riverside solitude

amused &
musing to a
little music

of life's little lies
which taste truer
than some truths

sometimes who
we pull close to
us will only ever
emphasize our
emptinesses

i realize i
will never
be more
to him than
what we
already are
& i do not
know if
that is pain
or relief

it was never
an actual
thing see

it was only
an act instead
of a thing

he dozes here
beside me but
oceans gather
between shores
& i comb slow
shook fingertips
through strands
of burnt umber
hair untangling

here's a hint, honey
it's actually all walls

that sound when
comfort changes
into constriction

coward & i crawl
back into all my
wounded places

let me be your
phantom limb
i beg from this
foot of my bed
facing a window
that may as well
be a wall wide
open but blinded
& blue curtained

grunt acknow-
ledgement & shells
of words scatter
spilt across my floor
headlights through
other slats hit high
arc over ceiling & my
self & him probably

high voices outside
this bedside wall
so our silence
deep & darkens
leaves reverberating
in my room sweet
sounds of strangers'
reluctant goodbyes
words & wet mouths

i slow stretch
careful across
his long sprawl
legs slide shut
the window pain

soft guilt
titillation
in a touch
feeling
unfamiliar
after all
this time

wide awake
& playing
pillow while
i earbud shuffle
skip songs
that don't fit
try not to
fidget under
a hot head
& heavy leg

a life attempt
to put all of me
into a little poetry

twilight air
vibrates under
pressure piled
thunderlofts
& sky high
mountainsides
with a shimmer
anticipation
of ripening rain

midnight meets
a dark anxious
downpour &
my life half un-
ravels into those

cracks of lightning
crashes of thunder

& a whole room
with its evening
associations in
millisecond eyeful

low rumbles of
chest-caught
thunder gather
behind me

precipitating

every nerve & inner
monologue's scrawled
with static today

i am singed & electric
ionizing tension as
air around me crackles

from a whiplash of
pressure fronts colliding
all sorts of cyclone whether

it's not that you
want to go back

it's that you
want to go back
as who you are
now & not
who you were

because this
you might do it
differently or
appreciate more
or assert or assent
when you should've

it's that you
want to go back
armed with memory

is this really sweat or
am i actually melting
dry heat & i will be
dust by morning

words you listen to

misunderstood
whole worlds arrive
appear & disappear

cups of mud contents
eventually run clear

war's available if you
want it in lieu of solution
assembly of peaces

how to decode a
distance around you
blind men in rooms
full of mirrors

i untangle
& weave

simultaneous

meditations
on myself

tiny tapestries
to tell of me

little records of
raw emotion

summer
is too good
at smothering
all but one urge
at a time

a surprise tanka
on my mail table today
scattered flowers &
a far friend's familiar pen
disrupted morning routine

sometimes we're
more tired of
effort than failure

exhaust attempts

to explain these
jumps between
associations

back to running
lapse

i followed

& you didn't

even hold
the door

trying too
late to put
all that

distance

back
between us

a fall back
into things which
will hold me

or am i just these
pieces i give away

a life of how
to sit silently

as a mind's
overwhelmed

by high-pitch
hysteria

circumnavigate
like i'll avoid
those calloused
hands

reach & i'd love to
grab but he only
ever whirlpools me

a blank page
to turn or
scribble on
& i'm never
sure which

he waits &
i am here
back-to-back
with this door

why is writing
as a form of
avoidance

always my
most productive

my life in measures
before or after
this coda of him

set at a common
table with my fate

i'll admit to
occasions
of a little

aggression

to scare him
back into
unsurety

a point driven
a pique

of my own
curiosity

a piece of poem
for every time

he's picked up
his goddamn phone

my hackles raise
he thinks me
such a certainty

this delicate
dance of
untangling

swill decisions
slow distracts
ice slides & clinks
in empty glass

a sleight of hand &
hint at smoulder
i'd brush that scruff
i'd bite that shoulder

cheeky clip of blues
traveler crosses my mind
'cause this hook brings
him back every time

covered ear shells
internal ocean

i sway on waves
of blue blood

nautilus curl
submersion
coils of energy
for surge breaks

shattered
on a shore
assured

by an island &
survivor voices

or that slap
of saltwater
on these quays

summer's naked
sprawls across a hot bed
every last cover kicked
feverish to the floor

morning & not even
all my resistant
snooze taps

can keep its alarm
from browbeating me
into submission

every day i add to
my attempted coups
against consciousness

daily a bloody ectomy
of self from this bed

tweets about never
wanting to get up
'til i have to get up
& other microcosms

desperately
disinterested
in this day

every a.m.
a hostage
negotiation
with pillows

sorry i'm late
boss i had to write
about how much i didn't
want to wake up this morning