It would rain in the rains / And the rest of this poem would be written by someone else
Something you may... You may never find again.
My love always arrived wrapped in silence, wrapped in dust. But that was childhood.
We will make meaning out of the holes in the sun
There’s a purgatorial break between these stretches …flaxen against the lights
I am not a single name. Not a single wound.
Grey chips of rough cement Rust rubble all around,
This was the way it ended: not with fire, But carried quietly under sleep-beds,
So go in peace, be free, be kind.
It said, 'You've brought a return ticket with you friend / Remember, people are not meant to be held onto.'
The moon is a cheeseball, Cratered, yellow, and huge like your eyeballs
Moving mindlessly and / Etching every alley along the way / With verses devoted to you
A quiet, seniority in its touch, / A tenderness that feels like it's meant to last
You thought you had escaped, didn't you? / Outran everything that weighed you down
Sometimes at early dawn / You overpower my eyelids / And won’t let me wake up
Who do I tell, sir? The walls do not listen, The roads do not answer back
1 and 3/4 cups of sugar, 2 cups of i-love-you
When moon fades into dawn and when I pass away with it / Will you think of all that I was?
It is enough— Enough to be here, Beneath the bulb of a wonton shop.
