Under the desk the red pinhead pools
above the cuticle
We stare into eyes while
my hello travels across and into
her open mouth—
The mouth of the woman in the chartreuse parka
A child asks me what I want to be when I grow up—
I tell her honestly—
Holding back only a little
Last night Las Vegas called me,
No voicemail,
Pas du tout
In the pocket of my nightmare,
In my pocket is a nightmare
But, when slits of light come through my blinds I can shiver
Visages remembered, recollections fail—
We remember a little,
Then fall down
He stands in the threshold for a mere 20 seconds
Smoking,
Corduroy trousers,
Door ajar—
How can it be enough?
Your face reminded me of
A youth I saw
In January—
Wearing a dark green beret
He sat on a wooden beam holding a paperback of Milton in one hand,
His legs outstretched
The stranger loops a picture frame through each arm
The quick snap of silver blades
The old woman clinks the glass next to her ear—
Crystal?
The smoke, the citron, the expression
Clearing a path
Metabolic outlay
A rupture of sounds and smiles
You’re placing a brick
To be bound
Two gnats sit on my bedroom wall
Side by side—
We bide the time
One I smash into white,
And the other—gone
The apartment is quiet and I would like to
Hang a picture where the nail is,
But it is not my room
I’ve been
Kodoma—
Needing some place to put this love
Hydrangeas
Peony
Orchids
No roses and no lily, please
J’espère que tu vas bien
It was the way she did many things,
Emblem to emblem,
His first wife or was it his second?
Brésilienne
