The Messenger
What do I want
to you to say
now no not that
tainted
evaporated
touch
me harder
words weighted
belonged in
something farther
love’s the attempt
at one another
love’s the age
for love’s age
the requisite
light as night leaving
Cupid’s last offer
as if I should come
as if I should not
go
10025
The city is the loneliest place
burning
and unable to sleep
A beautiful clock with an equally gorgeous laugh
it draws from the shy bowels of yarn
whatever can’t go back
Then tell some story
Like the one where you’re from
who you are being
or thinking of at least
Today
unable to sleep for the third night in a row
it’s you
which reminds me
how little difference there is
between the city and the love for it
Someone will say it’s Wednesday
Only technically
The sun has yet to rise
As for you
tossing in the dark
in my mind
you stay
keep me here
tell me how it went
our life for the billionth time
[Now That I Am Alone]
Now that I am alone
it is some knowledge
though not of much use
To speak
to go
to illuminate the street with a phone
dying in my hand
though it is not even night
and even if it were
wouldn’t that be something
like a woman who keeps what she wants away
but leaves her eye on it so that
she can in fact see it and not
crush the distance
you and I have
I cannot I suppose know
how there is no use in this knowing
or how less than obvious we ought to get
The party which thickens
distills into sudden plainness
and we are as we were
getting somewhere
back there, if we passed it
right here, if it’s what we had in mind
