I’d attempt to unravel your music, culling from the moon.
Inspiration reflects, bounces or sinks. I’m going to your river.
Quite often, it forms into trigger & arrow. Lime of artlust,
Anecdote. The ripest perishing. You move like tomorrow, today.
Where do you receive your energy? Where do you send?
A curiosity develops in the throat. It flows down to the abdomen.
I’ll code mine panic or catastrophic color (burgundy) made alive.
Pink locusts in a motioning mirror. Interest makes my little life.
I like the scents of a few toxic, cheap products, even if they burn
My evolution to the bone. A few waves of foreboding, too.
Conversation doesn’t shake it. Gold & red nylon dream-hairs.
My raggedy mathematics. To struggle with an allotment of latitude.
To fix a panel click. To go wordless, quickly. I was mad at pain, its
Unique protection. I glide my fingers along the pattern of a bold scar.
I glide my eyes across miniature poems. My life will be was—
Cloudy pillars. My body is night now. When will I call my brother?
We don’t need
To get naked,
But we should.
I want to stop writing about fire,
But I trust I will not.
On my side
Is the way
That I sleep.
Maybe we’re lonely,
Maybe it’s a competition for love.
Compassion haunts the sex conversation.
The energy burns
Away boredom, rewards hasty instinct.
I find myself curious
About valueless capacity.
I have no reliable picture of chemistries,
Except our entire world.
The sun & years are still what we named them;
Or they never were.
There’s too much life to last.
Forgive the body,
Is another person.