cloth seem slow
in the sense the weave held each person from any great pace present draped loosely over happy ceremony
the face of each fortunate lover in new light
new light brought new pursuits and resumed happiness
light is the only proof of the photo’s honesty
in the evening a er we both failed we will trace the picture’s light back to previous happiness and know that the bed lives elsewhere
dining on the perfumes of our chores dining on all empathetic people dining in perceived focused boxes
all my music in made of glass
all carefully constructed apartments let transparency create attractive shapes with light
though the truth is your body submerged in water showing in nite entry points from a refracted view
the luxury of the box i cook in
the luxury of the box i live in
the shape of the room I live in
I addressed the postcards to your sisters.
Pictures more ideal than you yourself could take, and better weather.
Oh my gosh, that must have been amazing, but you sisters saw the United States as ripe fruit that was politely and patiently individually passed on, and conjointly eaten
do you lay independently wondering?
do you speculate on the autonomy of your parents?
When a child, ve years old, catches themselves between two parallel thoughts
their existence will not be perpendicular and the topic’s abeyance is all life will be
do you oat?
does impatience force you to tread water and swim to shore.
recent lover lay, one of them on their back and one on their stomach, codi ed communication one hand reaches for the other in codi ed anticipation
summer transparent in its oppression
a paper balloon, lite cake
a combination of depressants which emerge as a heavy blanket
the night’s romance is neutral rumination sounds and temperature muted
by god or man,
the day is done or just begun
lit hours bringing publicity
god exists each night
happiness exists each morning
the rope tangled on the oor of the back shed,
there has been no need for it,
tight weave, coiled bers
“mostly I didn’t want to be held accountable”
pulp, paper, language that held water
this morning she slept in very late.
when she woke up, in a language uncomfortable to her she said “I feel very fast colored introductions tempted by tease
maybe there is a chance you could sleep with a stranger
Built on Midwestern manner
attracted skin and attractive youth
my aged heart will eat the age your birth built
a well built young town brought my disciplined refusal
I woke disappointed in my love for you, drove across the Midwest listening to sentimental songs
you left the house, tended spring seedlings, and approached the stall so that you could eye the lamb and expect wolves.
a child has collected you and taken you to the elds where men worry mother, a child will collect you, medicinal sleep,
apprise focused dilation
only her eyes are opulent elds
trajectories nd a match
my eyes a guest to their path
the coincidence of the two’s meeting
the sun casually passing with the moon between it and me hoping to become two dimensional
shortened days bronzed the landscape we made
I am complicit in its construction and should be judged accordingly contemporary life has transformed my melancholy domination
war is outsourced and out of reach
when called upon to address the wealthy landscape
I’d ask that you remember that you were born wealthy
and you were not born being dominated
the food was eaten by the sailors
the day was ignored because nothing is built on water
and all the sailors’ wives lived on land.
the wives lived by acceptance.
accept water, food, and children.
except children knew that different shapes could be built at sea
and that all things romantic live on water