One day, soon...
I will drive off that overpass,
Just to prove that I could.

turning
into
the true face                          of surrender
one more week
                          and I'll be home tomorrow.
I've forgotten what it feels like                    to be held
sleeping in tangles of sounds
                                             like chips crunching
like papers being crumbled and thrown
                 like the fear that erputed when I threw your words away.
whatever's torn is torn
me from you
and flavor.                 No, I have not forgotten your favorite things,
or the way you reach for me in sleep.

temptation. desire. temptation. retire.

look forward: I'm barely standing.

breath caught stomach knot last thought of
last words of what's worth of what.
of what?

I know you hate me. hate me.
"hate me!"

it's a religion to breathe in

her words (like honey in my mouth).
"I cry because I love her." and she cries too.
and he shy's away. and he hides his face.

there are storms on every side of you
and wars in each moment
                                        you ignore them:
in trying to find the light, your burns shown through: with worries about
nothing to start with                   and                            nothing to end with.

(Sometimes I crackle,
like the sound of a pencil
        that you wanted to break
        to prove to yourself
        that sometimes it's okay to break a pencil

and I wish I could see
beyond the horizon of my own mind
        that glows with the simplest doubt
        and with the simplest fear;
        and so some wrinkles hide under other ones

disease and psychosis
are the best kind of blanket
        like the forts you made as a kid
        where you could hide and they'd find you
        but you could still not listen; if you wanted to)

It is her warmth in a cup of tea
her whispers that rattle the window screen
her eyes that open as mine close.
Her shoulder that holds my head
when I fall asleep
on a pillow.

She colors everything.
She brings exquisite language to my lips
she sighs,
before she speaks a different language that
I understand.
(the a’s sound like raindrops)
that leave trails along
the windshield.

When once I belonged to
a life as delicate as lies and grapefruit knives
I read her
brief and clear
on her own face.
accidentally bare,
precious.

Life saved in the turn of a head,
at the sight of a name, a familiar name, more than
a name. in
a hand on my knee
in little things.
I took to the street to the city and the bridge to pass as a cliche
I thought of everything about her wrong
remembered that I forgot to say goodnight
before I turned around.

We talk in the way words fall
off and away,
as the melody subsumes the lyric’s soul
the sweetest notes of digression
waste the abundance.
Reduced to the center and I am less
all that I need and
nothing more
hanging from my shoulders;
skin that is white
in evening light
when she touches me
she makes me, I look at
the world, is small
sitting in the palm of my hand.
and I can see clearly from one end to the other
this is why I love you.

I am the brick and she is the window
when I kiss her cheek.
In the words good morning
I press my lips to the shape
of her eyes and feel her hovering shadow
spreading cool over my skin.

When I say no
I reach my warmest corners
round her body
over her shoulders
and pull her into the late night
held against my bones,
I have no intention of relinquishing.

She is angles and degrees
walls and windows
the words written in book folds
histories and the aspirations of ages
tiny brash movements and sight,
all.
To armies and invasions, I lay down infinite surrender
in between our silence.

For,
a thousand words
and I could never tell her
what I've needed to say by
arms and legs pressed with heat wrapped
round her waist.
Theres no explaining the way a heart aches.
What I’d tell say is                     (quiet [skin & heart{beat}] friction)
somewhere between this line,
and the next.
Let's talk about something else
Or our heads will float away
----------------------------------

love is the way my body leans
Can you see the way my body leans towards the east?
your words weigh light, their trails are long
through me, I say
love is that

in the morning, softly
I can feel her
still
against each point of my body
And my aching arms

whisper three words
and,
back again
to the beginning.