You are deaf
and in a rush
otherwise
I would
send you this poem

and know
you wouldn't
read it
whilst thinking
what a////
slashing me

and you squish back
to central now
where the vibe
and the fits
are clear

and nothing else\
well me
is dear

You and I only exist now.  Though that’s a squishy statement since I am writing this in my now and you are reading it in yours.  

What is the temporal connection between our nows.  The fierceness of now is not overcome by our distance.  Or our different calendars.  Is now held here in this almost physicality of looks-like-print?

Isn’t this is-now-between-us not the same somehow as where your hand rests as you read what my hands type is now? I’m still trying to ask that question. Abbreviations.

What wants to be felt that is lost in this small wire?

My skin would brush against yours.

You would not say
late things
to an early bird
the idea is absurd

this might be empty
tho
of well you know
but look no

don't look
at me
whilst i whittle
away to almost far enuf

I was just thinking
and then I realized
I should be having ***
instead
still I'm thinking
and typing
and you're reading
this might not  
be ideal

The spoils of war
lie before us today

Thinking creates
physical possibility
Awareness finds
ready-to-be way
tho not like me
to take it

What does that mean
I ask someone other
than me inside my head
they respond quickly
inquiring as to my
need to know

I need to know  her number
her skin
her dimples
let's not dance around this
I need to know
her as a human

I don't know what
the world is
or what part of it
rubs so roughly
that I wish not
to open my eyes

I don't know who
you are being
or what part of you
lashes out so fast
that I wish not
to open my mouth

I don't know when
I'll be ready
or what part of me
hammered so thoroughly
will heal first and desire
to open my heart