Every so often, they add a tattoo
in honor of some long-forgotten love.

You let the yellow glow
from eye sockets. The building up the street
is burning faster and faster.

my friends’ fathers are
dropping
I mean dying
like flies

Gravel-scatted hell &
we were blessed to be able
to hold on for even a heartbeat

Okay, picture this: We’re in an elevator. The elevator shuts down. It doesn’t matter where we’re going, only that we’re alone.

I count my homes—
those of my scattered youth
the sanctuary of our young family
the intermittent rest stops
of apartments and vacations.

Even as the sun warms the concrete
the long nights’ sensual cold lingers in my clothes.

You said it was okay to blame
what goes wrong on the planet

Mostly he ate what was put on his plate
snuck coffee grounds or dirt for a snack
Once a zipper Unzipped

He has stories that I am not in
anymore. It’s healed this way.

Listen to me: I know
the winter gloom in
mid-summer…

If my life was the size of my arm, I would stretch it out for you.

I am still waiting for the lion

Try not to see your own predicament in every fucking thing.

I am not a guide
for every traveler
of loss.

Do not say anything anybody else has said ever. Things are not “bleached by sun.”