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We are the River
The river is languorous
because we want the river
to be languorous.
The western boundary of
our city, muddy and
almost indistinct.
Wavy, like old TV.
We don’t want sharp
edges. We don’t want
to know where we stop.
Where we is no longer we.
More Life
In the house of unrecorded poems
I have a room with an Eastern view.
In the morning it is simple to make
up my bed. In the evening I tend
the metaphor which squats by my
side and tells my anima what to dream.
Keys
Her nails were scarlet.
Her sins were read.
I met her among others.
She shone like a lamp.
I moved so close that
our eyes saw the same thing.
I took her home and
she took me home.
It’s that kind of story. You’ve
heard it all before.
There is an ending but you
never get there.
There are places where you
get lost. Me, too.
And she, too, you know, the
woman from the party, the
one who still jingles your keys.
Bible
I only want this poem
to undo your eyelids
the way the dawn
burns through a prayer.
I spoke a few terms to
you, back when the
waters were rising. And
you told me words
are corrupted by ice.
So it took me ten years
to carve this reply. I
only want it to open your
depth the way that prayer
burns through the dumb,
the bible we wanted to
write so we could inhabit it.
Enlargement
When I was a child
I had a little brain,
a little heart,
a little penis. My
mind told me hurtful
things because
my mind was little and
because it was
parroting others. I am
bigger now and
my mind has expanded.
My heart has ex-
panded. They told me
this morning
that I could write this poem.
The river is languorous
because we want the river
to be languorous.
The western boundary of
our city, muddy and
almost indistinct.
Wavy, like old TV.
We don’t want sharp
edges. We don’t want
to know where we stop.
Where we is no longer we.
More Life
In the house of unrecorded poems
I have a room with an Eastern view.
In the morning it is simple to make
up my bed. In the evening I tend
the metaphor which squats by my
side and tells my anima what to dream.
Keys
Her nails were scarlet.
Her sins were read.
I met her among others.
She shone like a lamp.
I moved so close that
our eyes saw the same thing.
I took her home and
she took me home.
It’s that kind of story. You’ve
heard it all before.
There is an ending but you
never get there.
There are places where you
get lost. Me, too.
And she, too, you know, the
woman from the party, the
one who still jingles your keys.
Bible
I only want this poem
to undo your eyelids
the way the dawn
burns through a prayer.
I spoke a few terms to
you, back when the
waters were rising. And
you told me words
are corrupted by ice.
So it took me ten years
to carve this reply. I
only want it to open your
depth the way that prayer
burns through the dumb,
the bible we wanted to
write so we could inhabit it.
Enlargement
When I was a child
I had a little brain,
a little heart,
a little penis. My
mind told me hurtful
things because
my mind was little and
because it was
parroting others. I am
bigger now and
my mind has expanded.
My heart has ex-
panded. They told me
this morning
that I could write this poem.