darkness in the second act.
perturbed, mirror, standing there.
visage warps, light bounces.
exchanging visions, slivers, lenses.
paint it solid a color you like.
fetish impulse, warm burrows.
a management decision
(a received calculus).
plowed thought from rich soil.
light myself grotesquely.
rainbow spotlight, everything background.
no stranger to narcissism,
talking bare, enamored.
deep pockets, air and water,
swimming.
the total sum of all our angst is
groceries for the next few weeks
a couple more things to leave behind
the fear of not doing right by you
and the memory.
freeze frame faltering.
selfie of me, body erased,
talking through things.
you are me and you are me
and you are me and you are me
and you.
almost but not quite.
shaving seconds into doll figures.
time in the shape of a woman.
the pleasure of wanting
and the agony of no control.
we learn lessons in increments.
(we earn our valor.)
we are afraid of the mouth
at the center of time
whose babble touches the soul
(which is a sona, too.)
the sona is a dream,
the suit an exit,
the words escape,
the poets cry,
and heaven reaches
and into my paws (flimsy things)
and into the heart
and into the strangeness
and into the darkness
i am running into and up against
and around and somehow still crying
and realizing now that the moment
between crying was a lifetime
and a lifetime forever is in the between
as in subtext the earth falls under us
as in walking every infinity traverses
and how i was so glad to call it home.
call me.
conjure my name.
reverse the frail semantics,
recall the fleeting dream.
write it out in increments.
pretend this is a mystery.
media informed, i puked deliriously
outside the bar, wandering in a
blissful haze. harmony offered
me a smoke, peace offered me a
beer, love blew me a kiss,
friendship carried me on her back
and we flew across the sky.
"are we escaping the poem?" I asked her.
she only smiled,
as stars fell from the sky and
destroyed the earth below us.
"you look like shit," she said.
"you'd make a pretty girl."