I am asking how to use this new spy camera.
I am not telling you
how I want to use it
on you, how I want
to hold the flashing birth of your likeness
in my hand.

When I think of you ... I imagine us
chasing mice through log-piles (it is summer, the wood is only being
collected). I imagine us
never catching anything.

Give up on sleep. Stay up all night
counting the minutes
just to make sure that they are
all there.

Show me your shameful poems: homeless-person-sex-poems.
I've heard it all.
Frankie yelling to Debbie and Debbie yelling back: it's always sex with you.
And, baby, I love you. You know I do.

Give me your bad news, tell me your worst ( Read more... )

I want to take you up in my arms, little world,
until you stop shaking.
This is a selfish wish: i'm tired of the ground breaking up
between steps, tired of wondering when the sidewalk
will slide away. I want something I can stand on. I want you
to be a sure thing.

the morning you find your fingers ( Read more... )

This morning I was thinking ( Read more... )

bare branches at dawn, before the sun has climbed high enough
to burn away all the matchstick twigs, turn us
all to tinder and ash -- what an easy spark to catch,
when we've all got static in our fingertips.

There is a moment in the morning, before you open your eyes, when you can trick yourself into thinking you are anywhere (the trick is to notice only the air, the way it moves quietly around you, the way it fills the spaces between your toes, the way it fills every crevice like water). The noise from the window is the same as the noise you heard ( Read more... )

How you look when you're smiling,
when you know I am watching,
how you stand alone in a room after it's over and imagine -- what if
this time were the last time?