I've got my heart set on
reluctant poems,
a rush of lies between us
wandering. Restless spirit,
I feel it:
head cropped, surgical
instruction in the ways of love.
I don't want us to be like that.
The red drapes from my dreams, they
say too much, the truth, or a memory.
In the woods, a widening
we can't prove yet.
The less you know, the better.
Drunk now
I half expect
to turn up dead,
too many secrets
to rush into.
You be careful
arguing her name;
those are hard thoughts,
twice paranoid.
Worse things could happen
to get to the end
of your life.
Maybe the time
isn't right.
I know what's between the pages:
snapshots and
the biggest mistake
of your life.
A bite of flesh, direct contact,
I told you no one's seen
into the cradle.
Girl, the blood on that shirt is an
imaginary word of dust and
silver crosses,
my touch out of frame for days.
Tell me, is anybody looking for you?
I'm not too well, unraveling and
afraid to occupy my mind.
Through the walls we hear voices.
Can you capture the sound?
A blowing of nails into palms.
Haggard, I just feel I need
something sleepless, nitrous approval.
I've experienced nothing in
seasons of tending bar, grotesque
over the sound of men.
I captured paper dreams
at the Timber Falls Motel,
six black dots on a white surface,
unsettled message.
Division, blank talk defending
what I want.
Call me. There's enough for both of us.
I believed you were gifted.
A secret meeting in the woods, misguided.
Initials in blood,
the letter 'j',
a corridor of inquiry.
Crash; nervously smoking,
your connection strict,
a drug rundown
in the collar.
Lost, I was looking outside
to make luck.
I broke the beam of a flashlight
to catch a glimpse off limits,
the dead wrapped in plastic.
Enter one last chance:
I shouldn't have trusted
what you buried
in the clearing.
Maybe we should tell somebody
we were happy,
a long talk on possession,
visions all an act.
I keep thinking
I'm going but
I just can't get away.
