/ø/

dregs.

right in front of them

so intimate the room felt sweaty with their
thousand-mile stares, wonderment on the tips
of their noses, sunburned and scarred
it's all illusion, of course, all
second-guessing and up-dressing and
until i feel your corduroy stubble
i will go on wondering what you think at night

like apples from trees, me and my melody
tripping along until
cool earth claims us
decomposing until we gain some
sort of composure and boy
that will be the day.

so my ear feels sweaty
my breath is condensing
choke it down, choke it down
i feel lost, i feel found
what a strange merry-go-round.

be a berrrrreeeaver

lies!

the view that comes with you

think, tree-shaped shadows, windows
will reflect.

every time i die a little
religious confirmation, clairvoyant

remember forts and trees and
civil wars? ones without acronyms?

windows will reflect.

mirrors keep on lying, children
sit there crying, and god, it seems
so right. if i could only think
every day
there would be
everything
left to say.

wonder, revel, tree-shaped burns, the heart
it always knows when to turn

rain, pain, stalker parade.

these ridges, seldom touched, commanded
me to wash my back clean of sweat, hate.
sea-side delivery. what the hell.
deliver me.

down in new orleans, we're
filling soup bowls and breadlines
with beer and prawns and
holy hell, it's not even mardi gras.
but the rain feels like it's filling us up
and the rest of the world
will just melt away with years.

and it does, actually.
this entire year will melt on my tongue
until it's nothing but wrappers and boxes
and maybe a little negative sign.
doesn't that bother me? obviously.

so i will take a shower in acid rain,
command my skin to bear the pain.
sea-side resorts never knew what to do with me.
this year i'll learn to forget.

where my part is

so we bundled our blankets and set them on stone
and these makeshift pillows,
they leave us alone
in the morning and after and it
sounds like a song
but i'm running and tripping
and my breathing's all wrong

let me up, i would shout
as though some strange boulder was
actually pushing me down.

at times i am gazing at gases and lights
the rings of jupiter
on a cold, frozen night
but mostly i'm thinking and you know
i can't see, there are rocks in my
chest, there are socks
in my sleeves.

home.

second place was never enough for me
winter races and bobsleds all crashed
outside, i'm feeling too late
let the ambulance come, let the
waters flood, i guess i'll just wait