know it kinda starts to look that way
stricken and healing
dug below the soil like a dog in summer
reaching for the cooler
myths lower than the sun
denser that the last seven
words we shared
searching for below
after enough nights of
composing strength and excuses in
decomposed brain cell
reverie
we signify and play together in the
ambivalent sun
and scraps of our connective
memory circulate in these
lone meanderings
linked by the returns and bent streets of
our lives
choked as the
dream of you
shimmers
maybe all of these swept recollections
define a
cracked child
who looked for
you
never looking for anything
or
a crass thickheaded adult
who (looking for a
cracked child) kept time with your
sincere agreements
who smiles when he's insecure
he looked for you
when he didn't know what
anything looked like
it starts to look like him
this
scavenged cave graffiti
clueless notes wet with past
intoxicants in the
scrawlspace of notebooks or
the blank pages of novels
he
would fill the blank pages diligently
looking for the answer in an awestruck phrase or
a pretty fist of words
he had a lot of ideas
they formed dense cancers of
unfulfilled infuriating notions
sometimes
they were merely
anecdotal and weightless
filling the conversational air with
strangers
sometimes
they were
precious and secreted away and they
weren't real without you
until and
of
you and even
with you
i'm in the process of
forgetting your smile
a very dry and witless task like
a prep cook rendering nature
to compartmentalized
utilitarian
refrigerated
contents
i find myself cutting your smile into
thin rings of wet amethyst like red
onions staining every surface of
memory
i collect their perfect order
scattershot into
plastic containers and seal them
against the elements
taking your bent sleepy legs to freeze next
to crushed basil and coffee ice cubes
i gather your hungrily offered kisses
slightly parted with reassuring tongue behind
the supplies for our dead pets that
we couldn't bear to discard
i fold the sweet way you correct
the bottom left corner of your panties with a gentle
snap into the linen closet tucked among
medicine and cocoa butter
i somehow do these
mundane things
with love
very carefully
sullenly
without defiance or anger
very softly
with a kind of stupefied distance
i know it appears diligent
inspired even
maybe it might appear as if i understand it completely
scientifically
maybe it seems as if i accept it or i'm facing it with
confidence and verve
it starts to seem that way
bereft of bitter self-destruction but
a little bit fascinated with my own movements
listening for your echoes in
strangers
watching for your echoes
i know it looks like i am buried by them
it starts to look that way but
i am unfettered
sprawled in these pages
nothing pulls me down
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