Nameless Man with his Hands on Her Legs

mangos
melons

maggots.

motos
moto drivers
moto driver

wrap your hands around my waist
no she will not

your picnic is dirt
maggots

no picnic with you
won't smoke your

cigarettes

so lost
(we should really go out)

i am losing.
there are no trees
no leaves,
and the city
cannot read my soul.

and the concrete space
that i have for a patio,
is so small.

and the air
that i want,
is so far from this place.

i am here because my heart was rested,
my body restless

remember me as the leaves change
imagine me
so i exist where you are.

Relapse

They say that relapses for alcoholics occur every
for marijuana users every
for hallucinogine users every
for prescription medication users every

for poets every
and for lovers

There are many ways to write poems
and there are many reasons as well,
sometimes it is to perserve memories,
to add to them to make them better,
other times it is to make fantasies into some version of reality,
even if it is sick or twisted or sad

One way
to write poems

is to sit quiet and breathe in the rage
that is brewing inside you
and let it escape even though
it might humiliate you


There are many things that make me miss you
There are many things that make me remember you existed
even though I push the image of you
as far
into
my
throat
and as deep
into
my
stomach
as
you
will
go,
And sometimes I notice the rage of you -

Coffee reheated
Tea bags in cool water
Fake tans, heat rashes,
Burns that pull your face taut
You singing in the car,
Cans of Carling and the way you taught me
to twist and crush them

every minute, the spectacle of the world astonishes me; it is so comic that I cannot understand how literature would expect to cope with it.

- Czeslaw Milosz

Stunning Gray

After all this,
still there is an issue
to confront.

Still an issue
that seeps
into who I am.

I want sustenance
and suddenly
you come from air.

After all this
there are times
that sticks form walls
in front of eyes.

Legs so thin
mine quiver.

dear love dream in a stolen scene,
do you impart all you once hoped for her to me
including long journies across countries,
impressions of hunched shoulders straightening?
do you ever wonder if this young sun will burn
out before your heart has a chance to heal?
or do your new dreams include the mere
intoxication of your body?

the bay moving to the right with trees

now that i'm young
i've come to believe
in the islands and the trees
and the breaking sound of knees,

and recently that love
isn't always
such a tease
though that might be
what it seems.

now that i'm young,
and the sky is full of glee,
the tickling sound of wind
feels like my outward seams.

now that i'm younger
and my luck feels almost done,
i believe in seams, and the seems,
and the islands and the trees,
and how the bay feels like my knees.

the inside of my mouth
has become a ball gown