i am all of
this evening
these blue
portions of
blood from a

glass-eyed
grandpa who
poolsharked
his 20s intact

& owned half
of the only bar
in a bible town

who gave me
my first book
of tennyson that
smelled like
dutch masters

& an old sock
knotted green
full of nickels

he dares
to set her

smoldering

& aside

as if she

might not

sweep a

mountainside

to ash in 

her rush

to get to

those stars

as though

destruction

didn't dance

on the palms

of her hands

& die on

the tip of

her tongue

brown speckle
carpet its flecks
of whites & grey
the color of

e v e r y
s p i d e r

googling random things this week

like

“synonyms for flouncing” &

“how to buy drugs off the internet”

just kidding

kinda

 l'appel du vide

 

Sometimes I come crashing down inside myself
without anyone noticing. I’m like an ambulance
on two legs, hauling the patient
inside me to Last Aid
with the wailing cry of a siren,
and people think it’s ordinary speech.

- from ‘You Mustn’t Show Weakness’ by Yehuda Amichai

woke crying
unsure why &
can’t seem to stop

specter inevitable
you terrors of too
much time this
revisionist nostalgia

these ways what
might have been
should have been
& i pick through

past selves like i'll make
ghosts familiar enough
for contempt & not
cry when they leave me

acceptance is fleeting
like you made your bed
& still a need to sleep again

go gaze out long windows
o tell it to the birds

about blankets burdens
this feverish just so &
sweat out any complaints

what we

have clears

several times today

foggy again instantly

reason tells you

you feel something

you say better not

& it won't make

a difference & you 

do everything not to

we call that

which remains

unnamed

here lies fate
in hours i
spend without
a book

what i need
is spoken
in whispers

a thing
distant
i struggle
to hear

has tried to
reach countless
sounds before
& i think
o so wise
of myself now

since i hear it

silly i think
it's the first time
destiny told me
anything

save who's in
your pocket

we should
figure it out
for ourselves

to be or not
to be stifled
secondly thirdly
nightly she

died a little in
deciding on him
she lived in his jar

& would he
would he would
not ever get

around to
poking 1 or 2
extra holes

i am

as close as this
line of poetry
is to your thought

beside you that
same way i am
often beside myself

listening more
than my mouth
gives you credit for

circling back
stumbled past a
periphery of words

nearly there

i don't wanna see fools
suffer gladly i wanna
see you say hey so i
was a fool just then

you made me see myself
is what you should say

let it create a challenge

you might excel
beyond comprehension

i see it now through
your spit scowl:
blistered humanity

i see it now, so i win

remember that day
i was held out like
a boa on zoo day to
a kid in khaki shorts

both fantastic with
terror & you wanted
to see what i'd do
if you touched me

that day i slid myself
around your vital
little charms thru a
pain of sustain as we

goodbye & i slowly
uncoil you left wishing
to wear me out in
the world & i living

for this memory
of a wrap around you

i drown myself in
this sea of kicked-off sheets &
too many pillows

negative space &
vacuum juxtapositions
this bed is a void

these serrated edges
back-stumble steps
of tragedy dynamics

ratios change daily

& i hanged hope on
a proximate graduation
to half-hearted again

this awkward
lack of purpose

another night still
awake after 4 am

& now another hour’s
debate re re reattempt
then 2 more for fitful
halfsleep trauma dreams

or i guess nightmares
of all my little half-lived
lives & all these little
half-assed tries & who

who can even identify
what exists anymore