Nov 15, 2012
do you suffer from depression
i want to ask but meanwhile
electronic trance pours a silky tea into our ears
steeped in the red that pervades this room
here we are in San Francisco on a bright night
two people alone with our insomnia
blooming like violent wildflowers and loose lightning
our mouths draw the shapes of dim perceptions washed from a broken flow of melatonin
you spread over the sheets, skinny as daylight in winter,
stare at me upside-down.
listen carefully
to me speak of depth perception
as you suck nitrous oxide into your lungs like grenade smoke.
later we lie next to each other, pointlessly,
coaxing sleep into the room with crumbs of prayer
perhaps i kneel at the threshold of consciousness
building churches out of slender touch, parsimonious and fragile.
for hours, you traced circles on my skin
Apr 9, 2012
so I don’t know whether to turn around at your doorway
so hesitation drips the milk from sore eyes
so I scratch the walls
so I peel flakes of plaster
tumble like dead moths
erode my fingernails
which have grown long and desperate like homeless shadows
before the sun rises
we dimple red sheets under hard white ceilings
limbs curled into smiles
and then we are chasing each other
canyons underfoot
dust and sky tangled in your hair
skin eating the sun
like a stick of yellow butter
the sky is heavy on our backs
back in your room
the walls crawl like hands of clocks
we dip fingers into skin and bone
draw each other close
like curtains in lamplight
and then I’m at the terminal
a mold of you blooming across my tired posture
as the janitor cleans
the floor on which I lie, hugging myself,
leaving an unvacuumed fetusprint on the carpet
I’m in Santa Barbara
The tides are coming fast
and I am running away from them into some kind of loneliness.
come
bring your
guitar strings and
unfinished crosswords and
laundry on the floor as teacups chatter impassively
a gigabyte of sunlight melting losslessly into red red shadows
4/7/2012