Contra
woman! I shout-sing as I marvel at your new-found confidences; you have always been alone. but now your soft-shoed dancing knows the way it goes. woman, you leaned into my
woman! I shout-sing as I marvel at your new-found confidences; you have always been alone. but now your soft-shoed dancing knows the way it goes. woman, you leaned into my
last night the clock struck three, a lonely bird chirped, and I walked into the kitchen on padded feet. slid onto the floor with the jar and a spoon from
(for Raustin, and Spectacle Pond) on that night of stars, of sweetly sanguine air: you were slicing fruit when the cold snapped its fingers and bid us come inside. I pressed
all at once I hide myself, with found cravings in a coat pocket hidden in autumn’s closet. a yellow leaf touched my face and I wanted this silence: to bury
morning has a wooden mission: of a flat table dressed with a checkered cloth, pulling at its edges – I pull myself downstairs like honey from the jar while jams
you played that solitaire of saving with me saying “i will remember now forever” and tomorrow morning it’s gone like your fingertips never made me soft and i remember everything