Bird call precaution,
mournful in the dark grove.
The first time you
made love you
wanted to die.
Go back up to the light.
There is an essential spirit rising;
search party confirmed.
Stunned to cry, you tempt weaknesses,
a nightmare, degrading the goodness
in the world.
Solitary, you judge what the photograph buries.
You're not afraid, not afraid.
Rise, start.
Now realize where we are:
a half circle where
the mood swings with a
slow sip of time.
A kiss, impulsive,
stricken with emerald.
I don't think you know
I left something hiding in there.
You really are good looking.
Become erratic, dead leather beauty.
This is different.
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.
