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.
Live the rest of your life from one worst case to another.
He has stories that I am not in anymore. It’s healed this way.
The sin is existing.
I am still waiting for the lion
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.
People have always coped with flooding, and they learned to cope with death.
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
Yes I am guilty, I’m guilty. A sin was desirable then. Bring the dancer back to the stalks.