you came inside, where we atewhite cartons of lo mein, strippedof pretense. reclaimed, we cameby it honest, made shapesof lines, learned how they work together

a blind dog in the wildis a dead one1 which isthe first thing to understand but the house where daysare spent with the radiois barely

I am not particularly wise. blueberry fool in a borrowed yard, fingers knuckled in the ground, in a place only mottled birds care to worm

while I’ve been working to trick myself into tasting sugar in what I can’t stomach, you’ve been training yourself on lights out west that you

on my life I thought I’d never call someone baby or ever want to, whether sexy admonition or tucking hair behind ears. it felt like

the train in my mindfinally stops beforeI get off and wend the way through thisgarden of you turningthe fan off in the night. returning to

I want to tell you about the cereal I ate or pigeon footprints in wet cement, but scarcity warrants demand and these heady grass days

no pilgrimage quite as long as the four country miles, side-to-side in disconnected brooklyn, walking east to go west yet again we accidentally tango both

what a moment it is to haveshelved the bottle just as I’velearned a new game of cards.hands keep busy as birdsoutside run their errandsback and