of course there was a time before

a time when the night was gentle
the moon perched in the shadowed branches
the stars rustling about in their tiny flickering fullness
like blinking birds

in an instant
everything took flight
i soared with you and
laughed laughed
laughed so hard and sweet
life was long
and happy

we threw bread to those star birds

then when i got home i pulled out
my soft black notebook
it was dusty
but i wrote
and then i cried
and it spilled over the paper
in a rush of quiet ink

i spelled your name out
over and over and
over
with the curves of the letters i bent my body
backwards

eyes glittering
like those little star birds
something followed me through that night
i turned and turned but i could not catch it
and i found that
i couldn't take a breath
so i screamed
the sound was raspy and it was high and it
swung through the rafters
it tiptoed along the windowsill and
buried itself in your eye
where it sang and sang


yes
there was a time before
it is to me now as an echo is

how had i
failed to recognize
her
as she slipped down
the stairs.
i could not speak or
move.
i had dwindled to almost nothing.
i know i tried to say
everything
right from the start.
i know that there are girls far prettier than me and
far prettier than you.

at a certain distance she looks
far and miserable
but walk up
to her and there is
something cosmic and
unhinged.
there is a critical beauty
and there is the Earth and
it has filled with love
like a heart.

i knew you
and i knew you
after all is said
and done
after nothing
afterlife and after re-
incarnation
i will still know you

it's beautiful
the way it whispers
in my ear and something's dripping
from the empty crown
to the feet which
do not bruise no
matter how long
and hard i stand
no matter
it's no matter so
forgive me because

i'll always know you

i saw you in a photograph
smiling like someone trying to be happy
i am not sorry for you

I know the quietest way
to crack an egg.
The softest way to close
a door. How to pour
the water into a tilted
glass so it doesn't splash
back. A bird chirps at
just under sixty decibels.
A light bulb sings at
fifteen. I dream
of polymer chains snapping
clean, recyclables humming
to each other at night
while they biodegrade
at a rate negligible
to the human timescale.
Twenty decibels: the chiral
calcite spiral of the snail
when it falls to the sand,
when it dies,
when a girl apologizes
for asking a question.

a mantra: I can do
things that hurt, I can
do things that hurt,
three miles in, feet
in the dirt, trying
breathe in, cold numb
swim, trying goodbye,
hello, subvert,
feet in the river,
feet in the dirt,
I can do things
that hurt,
I can do things that hurt.