(2014)
if you enjoy this pain, all expressions of it, being here compiled, then, yes enjoy them, but
why is nothing i can do now. where it went. what that echo means, if anything
being drawn back unlike a bowstring but down and in as water finds the lowest
something you need makes you its bitch, yes even as it isn’t coming, no when love stands you up & all the more sweet
liking to say things, all kinds of things, mostly about the way things seem
i could not conceive of such beauty, it had to hit me like it has. nothing
here in the middle of the bottom of the lie how obvious
the center holds itself still that rockets believably may be seen exploding in all directions from somewhere vaguely
when (finally) we meet I’m thinking spring wildflowers will bloom on high
I will meet you in the open air, & pet your pony’s nose. You will be
I love how you talk Down to everyone In your poems Which, unlike fiction Are not covered
finally, without knowing it was coming, he got to die. it was great. like a birthday party clown, he was equally the center
bring me things to break myself upon till
I understand the tattoo now “VERITAS” on your wrist, only there because it is entirely absent everywhere else.
dopplergangers in case you both explode, who knows it could happen, true love too qui… like a limerick, obvious stupid si… like things aren’t. also, angular