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.

Any still figure at mid-late evening, when the long shadows make even crumbs appear arranged like furniture.

and apples, mackintosh mostly, but any kind left in The Pub
at the Assisted Living Place

The storm passes without snow.
The car waits loyally in the back lot.

Just starlight and some small scribbling across vinyl.

I don’t
know why
I’m in the garden
kneeling on dirt

There is so little left of the tomato plants.

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

I suffer visions and many indignities
while looking for the Lobster

We stop doing dishes while
a mile unwinds
from the tree outside.

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

and then her eyes fully opened — blazed through with strands of mud

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

how does an afternoon turn
on its axis?

It recommended
soft porn, as gentle prodding and petting parent
to parent might calm and soothe the kid.

the man is stayed bent over the canvas
of my sofa. the man is me the man is him
self and I bring down the whip…

my father holds
his favorite drink

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