stimulate the illusion of destitute empires
children climbing ladders
letters lost
stamps from stockholm

in the dead of night i sift through the foliage
arranging leaves on gravestones
hazy convolutions
faint ***** hums

black crows wander through thick pines

eulogy: impertinent

sleeping on the dining room floor
with apparitions and stale bread crumbs

clasping and interlocking fingers
sweaty palms dripping with amnesia

slow my breathing
it's better with you here

if you pulled back my skin you'd find a layer of grey underneath.
there is nothing new in me, my blood no longer red my flesh no longer
pink just grey and worn parts like the paint thin upon an old metal dinette
set. no ash, for i have not burned, no
mold for nothing could live off of the nothing in me.

then again, there is a heavy in my chest that sits. i cradle it
with my throat (try to pushit   down) and in between
my ears again when i begin to fall asleep, it
urges no dreams but
i like the pressure on my
temples.

my lips, my cheeks like a layer
of icing on a display
cake.


every soft haired, long
fingers will pass me in strides, avert their eyes and
eventually they won't
see me
at all.

little dark girl with
kind eyes
when it comes time to
use the knife
I won't flinch and
i won't blame
you,
as I drive along the shore alone
as the palms wave,
the ugly heavy palms,
as the living does not arrive
as the dead do not leave,
i won't blame you,
instead
i will remember the kisses
our lips raw with love
and how you gave me
everything you had
and how I
offered you what was left of
me,
and I will remember your small room
the feel of you
the light in the window
your records
your books
our morning coffee
our noons our nights
our bodies spilled together
sleeping
the tiny flowing currents
immediate and forever
your leg my leg
your arm my arm
your smile and the warmth
of you
who made me laugh
again.
little dark girl with kind eyes
you have no
knife. the knife is
mine and i won't use it
yet.

it's funny how the earth cups water,
rain carving bowls into dirt and grass,
caressing the currents;
tears of otherworldly lovers -
it flinches when coming in contact, rippling