I Could be a Sailor

Tonight, mi amor,
un pedaso de velum. And
yes, isn't purple a color.

Life in a series of sucessions:
this morning I catapult in with
the wind and before I can leave,
I will want to kiss everything!

While alas, the you becomes
ever increasingly unimportant,
rippled green water, more similar
to the bumpy plastic in a marine life
display at the big museum
(fluffed gulls and all),
folds in on itself.

Chewing macaroon pulp,
sticky and hot, I overhear
the yellow brick building
creak mysteriously from within
and walk faster.

An echo in my brain:
lights on or off,
we can be naked or not be naked.
I am finding you difficult
to adjust myself to.

3. Koschatnick: A dealer of stolen cats.

I am not sorry, if
that is what you have come for.

The skopos: transcoding as
as a means of exposing.

Imagine that the bicycles in
the hall can feel absense, still I
do not regret you, or after
you because I do not
understand the purpose of purpose.

Nothing
A real feeling washes over the
body like a warm, sick bath.
Always there exist
oatmeal remedies,
but when is a question that
sits a the center like
a peach pit.

If i could explain how
a face can only become a new shape for
the original problem

Reads Backward to Avoid Endings

The heated blanket (felt-ish), a tall man sitting cross-legged, found cotton-blue ribbons between cushions: all not mine. These should be: the records my father's left.

We live in rooms filled with things that collect dust Mother why am I not also a bouy?
For the words thumping like tiny, irregular heartbeats beneath my fingertips, I think of
capillaries bursting like seams, like blood bugs from the new old sofa.

You are a picture frame
that i keep in the littlest denim pocket of my not wearable jeans in the closet. If I

could soak a space up into my pores and take it
with me into the next room, I would never fear leaving

or

abscond the vitamin in the upstairs bathroom, lodged between the vent
grates, the kind of thing small brotherfingers do without worry that:
wouldn't the cockroaches miss it, the lingering scent of mineral orange in winter,
in wall cavities.

The Evidence Left in my Tires

Before

water begins to build up

in our joints and it

becomes harder to move from place

to place:

ruminating is what we are doing

here is what we are doing.

You bring me a charm

that is also gold and black, and I find a moth

sogging in my soup.

Replacing mine,

this one has

come from somewhere else.

         here I want to ask but

you are across the table-

cloth sipping and 

wouldn't have noticed.

These are all remnants.

Like the way it comforts me to

know I am animal and not

a feeling I remember

feeling differently like

sandbox rocks

that sat in my little brother's

pockets.

You've burrowed a hole into the base of my

belly like a gyre widening, the

widening gyre?

Where there used to be an experience,

permenance and impermenance,

why it is, that we never recover.

They Said They Would Put Them in Years Ago

The problem with
speaking: as if anything could
be said differently.

A mouth without teeth,
eyelids not for blinking,
the feeling of being.

She became
a woman from the waist down.

Reception is key.
To be
like the bug specks on
her bedroom ceiling
that would exist
even after the floorboards were
replaced,
rotted through due to
a lack of

piping—
What of the french drains?

Oh and that
raccoon skittering at
the window one night from
the wrong side,

and all of
them sleeping.

Content; repeating it
signifies her desperate
need for
validation she was sure

that this time, they would furnish.

The Books You Read as a Child

Maggie
is a word that tastes
like peanuts:
a most memorable quote.

This is the setup-
please suddenly remember
that everything has a beginning
that you will not remember.
This is as similar to
her face—
which was wrongly led
by a nose and
not a chin—
as to understanding the
skimming of rocks.

Because my father didn’t take me fishing,
there are rules we won’t be following:

1. Endings are not ever
as important
as one would wish
(which would be
nearly inconsequential).

2.Trust your instincts.

Check, Check

Clues
not on paper are

not
on paper we exist
as outlines/splinters; un-whispered

Crude and tender and
there are too many scarves in our apartment
etcetera,
the cacti are dying—
such are the causes of Ex,

which had been
a mistake
in the making all along.

Who
buys new pots anyway?
Like q-tips,
and scribbles me
onto the list.