There’s no way
to have the time, someone says
there’s no way
to have a self
sabotage like this, gentle
yapping, the greatest
love tableau — it will end
it will end
we had some grape
juice and seltzer, and the
sunshine around our chests
locking its chamber
whispering “I am done” I
am not searching no more
for the great words to
catapult this new year
backward, I think
that’s called generosity
an open belly
a hefty helping ok
You have an odd or let’s say interesting
way of never touching anything
let’s call it a phobia like water
and oil, let’s call it a version
of all other parts of same selves
that in graceful delusion function
as divine embankment
let’s say a god dam, a way
to keep themselves dry awhile
their elemental partners thrash and
gasp
and boil right next to and functionally
in them —
it’s the cosmos baby
it’s a way to have no
change, if never you melt
if never your parts intermixed
if always with the “you” business
with these holy buttresses
that can’t remember what it feels
like to weep
Snow’s been in the air
all day, it’s the rumbling
of a car
or from the mountain, go
figure, just slow down
and dry your laundry
on the craziest night of
the year when once you may
have cried about mushrooms
or whatever they’re called
the bitter fingers of
the icy fingers of a waking
the way you say This is warmth
here we rock and bathe together
here before it’s over
a refrain, a referendum to tumble over
Chat with lonely ghosts in your area
see if they are concerned