11/28/2017
"I imagine this midnight moment's forest:
Something else is alive
Beside the clock's loneliness
And this blank page where my fingers move."
the thoughtfox

The sun set on us
there was nothing I could do.

We talk of
Ted Hughes and the thought-fox.
you say I will be a good anthropologist

i don't want to travel if it's without you,
I learn this:
Plath bit Hughes when they met

for some reason, I thought it was relevant  to us.
it is the last time we meet.

You are reminded that I disgust you
and say it has to end.
Earlier you said

"I feel like I am your Ted Hughes."
and I reply:
"He killed his wife."

11/28/2017

Grinning,
but who's to say I'm supposed to bear it?
dreaming of being loved and

tops of parking garages
where I will make my Olympic dive
perfect form, perfect form!

perhaps I'll make a show out of the whole
thing
the rigamarole of my rigor mortis

i wake up at four am and
think oh my ****,
life is a nightmare

you told me your self it wasn't fair
but you made those rules
and stuck to them


i will grow to hate your countenance
eventually and soon
when i rot and bloat in my grave.

11/4/2017

third floor balcony the highest it goes
we stood– he said earlier
the top staircase is good luck

just her and i smiling leaning on railing
talking about everything:
who gives a **** but we did and we do

the night was brand new- sitting
joking the apartment was an ***** den
smoking your lucky cigarette, you paused

and i thought is this the best we're ever gonna get?
you hand it back to me,
i breathe remember last time i was here

we walk back in,
they laugh and talk about how they're out
of beer

she asks if i want my makeup done
and how the others will be here soon
i can only think of the dead leaves

i saw on the courtyard from the stairs
and wonder which one fell
first.

10/17/2017

it's not real.
not here.
not yet.

driving past the
streets i've grown to memorize
clapboard and craftsmen, american

summers drifting over me like haze
and all the memories that ensnare me
all i know is the past and that scares me

i am
thinking of exurban new jersey and thinking of
last week,

the lights across the Delaware river at midnight
reflected perfectly
but not quite,

orange red and white oil slick in the black of the water,
the lights of cars creeping across occasionally.
i burn a cigarette out, toss it into the water szzz

ah, god, you say, looking up from your stoop
i love that sound,
i recall i used to burn them out

on my hands because i did not feel them
and for a while there is nothing say. you look back down again
and it is quiet.

but look, i stand up, almost yell,
almost wading into the cold October water
and

maddening with interest by the second.
is that a light i see, in the water?
a glance towards you

again you look up,
now leaning to the side
the faintest glimmer,

you conclude.
i wonder, out loud, what is it.
you tell me it is hard to be like us.

i ask, what's us?
eyes still on the water.
oh, well, you know.

then i understood.
striking a match again
and pacing round the riverbank

i throw stones now,
smooth ones and rough ones,
each making a different sound as they hit the water

trying to hit the glimmer
then stopping, wondering why?
i sit back down, chastising myself for my inability to relax

you listen to my heart
oh its fast
tap my thigh as you hear it, head on chest

dundundundun
i laugh because my heart's gonna **** me one day
just like it did my grandmother's father

and so on
and so forth.
driving back,

on the bridge,
i shake my head.
point at the darkened spot

hey, thats where we were earlier
i don't tell you this, but i look for the shine in the water.
i don't find it.

The only man I ever loved
Said good bye
And went away
He was killed in Picardy
On a sunny day.

Desire and
All the sweet pulsing aches
And gentle hurtings
That were you,
Are gone into the sullen dark.
Now in the night you come unsmiling
To lie with me
A dull, cold, rigid bayonet
On my hot-swollen, throbbing soul.