Differences
The faceless cutout
Of a part of our lives,
Irony strung together
With clay, my body is
Forming and forming again,
God, I’m where I want to be
But I’m not, the rizz of my
Life certain as love, in this
Morning darkness,
I gather my life in multiples
Of every numbered day,
The answers are scattered
In logs and logs and logs of
A lot of things, two things
Kept side by side,
Two things failing to hold
Each other, two things
Touch each other long
Enough to become one,
The white doors opening
Again and again, call it miracles,
I wake to what is to be my misery,
Its tired eyes looking at me,
What we become uncertain
The hands of God,
We look at each other long
Enough to become each other,
One lie, the other;
A fabric of reality.
What We Say To the Things We Fear
What we say to the things we fear
The smoke is a kind of vile heaven,
Bodies in the quarter of round
Round broken things waiting
To be mended again.
In a dream, small as desperation,
I’m a version of Einstein,
There’s nothing I’m certain of
Than an obscure object
In the quantum
Universe, their fate closed in the
Circle of Life, death cloaked inside
The places we’ve been but don’t
Want to see. Again. Again. Again.
We say it the way we always do,
My life is on the line of yours,
Lines are on the cobalt side of my head,
Memory forsakes me, and I remember
The ways we’ve been here,
Still as minions in respect of Command
The things I want to say, now flooded
By silence.
