In My Window

perhaps we ought to feel more imaginative

if not simply to be so

perhaps I am less a bird or a fish and more - say- a lemon

or, maybe that's just what a lemon would want to believe

or, maybe it's just because I have a lemon

not a bird or a fish

perhaps it has come to pass

an old man's dream

an old man's dream

so many taxes

a sweetened, narcissistic stone

ours: the river

still alone

it's just a dream

stitched with seams of aerated plastics

what dreams leave behind

are these - no, those - memories

old friend

it's time to feel blood again

freely

some sticks

in the sky

rhyzotomous shadows

in the sun, hi

butter me up

look with me

I Know What It's Like

I would love

-threadbare-

to focus on your problems

if you could just...focus

    on your problems

and do the same

    and

have more interesting

...problems

the fungus moves freely!

ha. no

it actually doesn't

get over yourself

I don't regret dying

but saying so doesn't stop it from happening

(I'm not talking about dying anymore)

maybe it's a feeling

[before the bomb

or, the assumption thereof]

photographs

with the sun in my eyes

of you

not knowing where this is going

(with) the sun behind

Naivete

truly

I'm writing all the time

the distance belongs

I do believe in heaven

the distance applies

the (sun) has died and I haven't

how will I find you

without eyes

be nearby

can you deny

(there is no one

in the pool

in Tennessee

in December)

-not that we are-

that it feels like 

we are at the center

-perhaps intrinsically-

(in all probability)

(can you deny

probability is stained by actuality?)

(and yes, that is what makes it probability,

but what if it wasn't?)

(I was about to do something)