At twenty five
I threw myself
through bonfires,
looking for a
life beyond the
wood smoke angel.

I would drink
a tenth bottle,
& curse the heart
repeating like a
stuck needle
in the black
groove of years.

Past the burning
rye at the edge
of the wood
cars never stopped
moving, white
pulses dropping
into the well of
the far distance,
folding into the
yellow chambers.

I cancelled myself
quietly on the dark
porch corner
in the watery night.

Then a dozen
years were thrown
across my life.

It's not possible
to explain everything.
But know that I
played roulette
with the sun.

I broke the moon
with song
& repaired it
with verse.

I filled my palms
with grass
& drank the
greenness.

I hurt, terribly,
a breaking sleep.
I lived underneath
a residual shine.

And then you,
my ace of cups.

I lay in the
secret rectangle
while you told
me of the snow
brothel.

I watched metal
birds slouch
the sky.

I walked
the theater
of the lawn
and found
you laughing.

Darling,
those years delivered
me to you like a
letter.

If you
unseal me,
everything you
find inside
is yours.