Losing you
is a bitter taste
on my lips.
And I was a child
who had to learn
to know
there was a taste
other than
sweetness.

winding winds weave patterns in my chest
a soft flower like a cloud up my throat
ehem ehem
a clicking swallow: a pinecone slides down
hitting a trembling trampoline stomach, and bouncing
like marble about

a cotton sparrow pecking somewhere everywhere
with its little blue beak of bead
ehem ehem
eye meets eye and eye eye
and winds bloom by, stirring the sky and
low bronze brooding grass, as
leaf leaf leaf laces down, down glittering slow
stumbling midair, stumbling in rays sneaking in through brown
stumbling like lost bee in a pathway of gold

then settling down light as a kiss, as a
curling of lashes on the parapet of eye

I had some tickling words—

velvet quilt round a tongue of damp wood
a tick of skin and tendon and beat
as all the gears in me lock in place
open the mechanical gates and out
the stuttering sparrow, small
with its wobbly chirp that, practiced, perfected,
spills still plaintive in the silence of stone

‘do you have an— an a scale?’


‘thanks—’

oh mY JASM—

I'm going out into the woods

For a couple weeks, for a couple nights

Out into the cold, out into the snow

I'll be out in the woods



Freezing, shivering and feeling frostbit

I'll be out in the woods, only warmth

Coming from a old jacket and you



You will be on my mind while out in the woods

While you are sipping wine and under the blankets



I'll be going out into the woods

Forever? No! Only a few nights

Soon it'll be over, soon I'll be coming home,

I'll be out of the woods



And back into your arms where I belong

After

Going out into the woods

On a quest to flatter
a date without love
does it really matter.