All night in a box of light geometric cradle of office buildings windows still lit— why? they obscure the sky replace the stars above quiet streets full rivers of pavement at mostly right angles— you are the only company I keep in these hours and your hunger, and your cry— I expand to fill each need the broken boundaries of sleep the velvet darkness of this room this makeshift nursery I watch you for as […]
Rose dawn, pepto bismol energizer bunny and funny sorts of clouds– Friday as surrealist unseasonably warm the honey sun combing the alleys between the hospitals and methadone clinics trash in the street gold imbued shards of life or skeins, more mobius-like going on and on and on
They cancelled the fireworks but no one knew the countdown proceeded and we arrived at a precipice with misplaced anticipation– a bewildered pause the cork stuck the breath retained who knew time could slip away unnoticed even as we marked it a profound underestimation our breath dissipating into the newly christened night
Oh how I love the city at night– the lights, the lights the quietest signs of life sharp against the cold air from a distance the interstate mistranslated, say a river, or a winter wind or one unending exhalation
Just past the pier a sea lion, briefly and two dorsal fins like piqued interest very present and transient only a few kids saw them and exited the water but at a certain point there’s no longer a point to reticence– consider the odds or don’t it still goes out like a sigh, the tide the pier stretching out into the open Pacific like the longest exclamation
worse than a promise unkept is one not made only implied no lie technically it rained the evening hours slumped into night the difference between dusk and dark said and meant is gray and quiet
Moody rain all along Lake Crescent, a fresh wreck the flares like embers– last night we kept the fire going until its bitter end coaxing and coaxing a few more flames until the night consumed the beach it is immense the lowest tide the endless starless sky no clear line of demarcation just soft gray nothingness and the faintest clouds of breath to prove our existence
a blue stroke across beige paper a river cleaves two banks look at this place the contorted topographies red dirt roads like open veins and muddied waters the stars at night are big and bright where does it come from this possessiveness? to take establishes the precedent of loss so choose your hypotheticals carefully– why don’t they, if only then the golden door would open simple, easy another girl got swept away in the Rio […]
it’s a bitter root that twists deep into the dirt the dark gestalt of things unspoken and so retained rehearsed in lonely moments
was it the sparseness offset by silence or the roundness of the number eclipsing the rest days, days, the lack of antacedence how do I begin to formulate a response it’s unsettled here dry when it should be raining charged with anticipation a bee came in the open window and then left nothing happens of course I doubt your fortuity
OPTIONAL POETRY 