Let’s divide the sky, you and I,
With Wilco tapping our gut, our eyes,
Supplanting the clouds from our grape cigars;
We’ve been folded, too creased to remember
Those country nights, those starry remnants when I would

Always point east with a fettered finger.
If I held it long enough, just enough,
Horns would bud, deviling my digit,
And the fireplace froze over.
I destroy homes and fall, fall, fall with them.

I play the bench observer,
Cigarette **** to people with permanent smiles.
‘Relax,’ you said ‘you need to relax,’
But your lips chapped and bleeding--
They resemble mine in humid daylight,

And the sky moistens and melts
To the tantalizing tune, yellowed summerteeth.

i don't know
                                                      glea­ming­ like an apology
what i want
                                                      ­your scraped pomegranate summerteeth
these winter days, i used to
                                                      a pointillist sunset,
wish i could inhale                    
                                      ­                d­on't tell me that muscle
the wide wide world
                                                      is made whole by breaking,
just to breath it out
                                                      back bent toward abstention
into your mouth, once,
                                                      none so present as yours
i never really knew
                                                      (­and­ cracked holy monuments,
strength
                                                       vines their unlaced exoskeletons)
just that i wanted to be strong
                                                     ­ at­las was no gardener
for a nebulous reason i cannot
                                                      to hold up is not to tend.
remember
                                            ­    ­      wher­e could it be written
i'm leaving for
                                                     why would anyone say, why would
a very long time,
                                                     a poet teach the heart survives by breaking?
but you have to go
                                                    that in black ink my love may still shine bright
away
   to come back
                                                     ­

i don't know
                                                      glea­ming like an apology
what i want
                                                      ­your scraped pomegranate summerteeth
these winter days, i used to
                                                      a pointillist sunset,
wish i could inhale
                                                      d­on't tell me that muscle
the wide wide world
                                                      is made whole by breaking
just to breath it out
                                                      the thready beat made stronger
into your mouth, once,
                                                      if ravaged, then repaired.
i never really knew
                                                      ­could we salvage joy from each day loosening
strength
                                                      our ravenous hold on the world?
just that i wanted to be strong
                                                     ­ atlas was no gardener
for a nebulous reason i cannot
remember
                                            ­          to hold up is not to tend.
i'm leaving for
                                                      wher­e could it be written,
a very long time,
                                                      why would anyone say, why would
but you have to go
away
                                                      ­a poet teach the heart survives by breaking?
to come
back.
                                                     ­ *that in black ink my love may still shine bright