to pour water
into the velvet lip
of a jar
or the lobe of your
pale ear dwindling
like a bell
        unsounded
      in the consolidation
      of both the unclear
      of words and the
        unsaid

to pierce the silence
with the stem of breath
and break the curved bow
of the moon with our hands
that fritter against the meandering
of our eyes leaning against the walls of returned glances.
to postpone a voice
   mid-birth and embrace
     encumbered enigma.
to sing deathly dreams when
everyone sleeps dreamless.

to pluck the strings of
  a guitar
  and pain in the fury of love
and its accompanying bafflements.

to have ended the fire like
   the brief life of a match-flame,
  and to want you again inside
   the windowless room of my mind.

to this
        and to
               that

like a map that's hastily drawn.
i have felt myself stride
   like a wounded beast
  inside the bramble of
   obvious hesitations.

      what to do?