A thick wasp waits
inside on thick plate glass
its painted abdomen
still drying
while just beyond
two hummingbirds
get violent
over the butterfly bush
but I only see beauty
now even
when there’s danger
it heightens it
somehow
I forgot how much
this world is alive
so thanks
for reminding me
and everything else–
Deaf from the show
collapsing into sleep
you are always
in my dreams now
felt if unseen
like a baseline
or reverb
or the two words
I now hear over and over
tú sólo tú sólo tú sólo tú
Another night like
drowning–
sometimes
a tide comes up
further than
expected
and lacking air
a body
cannot perform
voluntary efforts
to seek
attention–
I sink into
a drink
knowing day
will rise again
from this
watery dark–
less phoenix,
more albatross,
but, any
port in storm–
Should I speak of you
in hushed tones?
When I say your name
it is citrus-bright–
people I don’t know
are happy for me.
My heart is a grove,
orange blossoms at night–
giddy in the dark,
small, but how
we betray ourselves,
always reaching out
to close a distance,
to fill the air
with scented prayer, first
to make time speed by,
second, to linger
in your arms,
I’ll gladly share
the space, if
it means
one moment longer–
Take this doubt,
I’m tired of carrying it–
which is not to say
that any part of this
feels wrong, more
that my heart
at times gets
unhinged
as the moth
bruising its wings
against this glass-paned door–
Give me time and coolness
and empty evenings,
a half-moon, faint stars–
I’ll find my way back,
again, you know this
These matroyshka days,
they don’t progress
but nest one within another,
like waking dreams
or dreams of waking—
And just like that
it’s morning, again,
in this, some city,
unlike others, but also
mostly the same,
a dawn, a limbo,
drinking coffee
and trying
to name things—
this is a Thursday,
and this is my home.
As if anyone could prize
this happiness away!
You’d be better off trying
to pry away a snake’s fangs–
sometimes it seems as if
you don’t even know me.
I can’t be shamed–
this hunger is holy.
1.
When we are far apart
I carry you around
like an ache in my bones–
bright as the promise
of rain ringing out
in the callus
of a long-healed
fracture.
2.
When we are far apart
I think of you so often
that my other thoughts
cast shadows–
3.
Also
when we’re together.
And then a disembodied morning
floating among checkpoints
flight conference luggage flight
each clock telling me
it’s some different time
and none quite right
and suddenly it seems
so apt
that lightning only wants
to reach the ground
it’s unsettled up here
interminable and tempting
me to strike
without warning
I’ll call you
once I land
Still no rain
outside in little Italy
tablecloths flapping
like loosened sails–
another night falls
into red glass lamps
a subtle storm
shy lightning
no thunder
only distant sirens
and a mournful
tenor sax–
even with all this
I am not really here
but am air myself
a wind a song
unable to be
in a place
without something
to hold me there–
someone to see
someone to hear
OPTIONAL POETRY 