All These Rooms

nolovernobrothernokeeper. 
In a land where grass won’t grow
this is a field
imagine the grass is knee-high and touching
the grass is the wind tuning
this field. 

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Song

A sudden lack of desire
strips the night from the waist up -

Bare-breasted night,
Lime-leaf Night,

Night of a thousand catfish
feeding on the surface

of a city pond in spate -
the sky’s discarnate twin

disturbed by their blind hunger.
This is the night

mother would sing of
from the bottom of the well,

the one that […]

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Agency
Our gasoline held to everything - his sister’s dress
and grass, snails in the pond - within the smell of things burning
even the air disappeared. But I can hardly see
the blank fields anymore
for the earth has no memory
and cannot refuse to grow.
Generation
Incredible stillness a scene suddenly mute
no cicadas left for no trees remained […]

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Valse
Hush, I planted an acacia nut
in the milk white flesh
of your palm so that we might forget
all the things we’ve loved and lost
never to come again.
No, I planted two seeds -
one for you and one for me -
hold your palms out
so we might see
their movement towards light
breaking twice the space between
earth and sky - […]

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In the streetlight four
porcelain cups on the curb
carefully placed.
Momentarily ruin dares not court
their strict white, the soiled language of concrete,
the way one could not slip a sheet of paper
between the two.
Consider the spring-stunned plumeria,
the florescent bath of nonsense
striping the night from the waste up.
Bare-breasted night, lime-leaf night,
night of a thousand catfish
feeding on the surface of […]

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are like the lighthouse song
effortless the
“I too am here in the night
where many things shine.”

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Do you remember the July we slept
at Kalaloch? One morning,
at dawn, I saw a bald eagle but didn’t wake you.
I needed to be alone with a thing near extinction.
whose life was meaningful by design,
by my own dull recognition of it.
I write by this excuse: to tell you
last night I heard an artist speak about your […]

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