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

this is what I want you to to see:
leaves falling because it is too late for them not to

Should have found a job by now; should have slept in the night;
should have boiled old coffee before noon.

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

Long after midnight, we’re talking about our first time

I like to think I’m also sprung,
released from the furnace knocks,
done with the heavy meat stews
and salty soups.

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

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

The sin is existing.

you quit wearing pants
loaf around your yard
in hole-nipped panties

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

I want to roll in this moment until I become its vocabulary
until I smell like the bones
until I am its echo…

I suffer visions and many indignities
while looking for the Lobster

a folksome, gruesome opera
of gauze and malcontent.

Part of being a good sad person
is always painting the shadows
in the right direction and knowing
what sorrow to art with.

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