(2012)
let’s put all the stupid things in a pile and call them “love” or “worry” or
something you need makes you its bitch, yes even as it isn’t coming, no when love stands you up & all the more sweet
god is unwelcome in suburbia, the cells are too comfortable there, & love rests best under stars.
when (finally) we meet I’m thinking spring wildflowers will bloom on high
you are guilty of failing to love and understand me, like a dog is guilty of failing to speak or use
the center holds itself still that rockets believably may be seen exploding in all directions from somewhere vaguely
I will meet you in the open air, & pet your pony’s nose. You will be
yes, darling you should come & take care of me, someone has to, & you
people, mostly all barely beyond apes, cannot be trusted. they are incapable of caring
was all stupid. you weren’t that entertaining. i find it all only sad now, that
webwomb’s not the maker of me. came into it as falling is done. down, only always
I love how you talk Down to everyone In your poems Which, unlike fiction Are not covered
now, I’m no Bukowski but my friends who don’t like poet… except his stuff, tell me they like mine, and I can drink like a drinking machine
leaning into, not against it. no, decidedly for, yes, always that, no matter
we are nearly always a world which almost