Hello, my friend!
My favorite here so far is 04, On small batch, single-barrel reserve Kentucky bourbon.
The numbers are numbers, not dates.
08 — beam
powder cuts a pooling sun your
gaze the space
made by thumb and a close
blade a
doorway lit bright fruit under
cloth rolling
wild with every with every
with every odd stone
07 — CO 14
ever on long bodies fall
finally to the cattle fences
flayed green shining
buffed tin under a high sun
two lanes drag on a roll tide
whole worlds in one
low voice some
frosted glass
06 — Friends with No Benefits
After Megan Fernandes
90 in a
45, due east.
Earthbound
unearthed, the roots
of these two bodies work
into engine. At our
backs, the pocked blue cliffs
in furious pursuit.
Blade on stone pit,
the world is two things:
our right and our left.
Bass in my throat and ribs,
your skin takes on air in gulps.
You want everything
with everything
you have. I want
everything too.
I want everything too.
05 — A word from you strains
like two wings. My pride a small
thing. Between us a blank wind,
the shape of a messenger,
a spray of gold and bright,
bright pink.
To know a man,
to give a life,
to shake the earth by
ankles for loose change.
The world softens under
my hands. Fresh mercy
for which I cannot answer.
04 — On small batch, single-barrel reserve Kentucky bourbon
The heat of midday
binds my limbs
neatly pulled tidy
crosses. I shed some
knit and my shoes. What I
mean is a hard thing to say.
I measure it
twice, a task
of a thousand hours.
I swat it with my
small words.
When man takes
what he wants
he is gutted in
time. This
is the faith of my life.
The last I give
to this god of silence.
03 — Steel Ribs
Silence lasts as far
as my body and eases
finally with the goslings,
many tiny webbed feet which fall
hard against the yellow brass.
A rush of air tips
my chin back. Last,
more beautiful scrapes
of light on risers of green
make me
many pieces of me.
Joy opens its steel ribs in
my ribs. Chalk muddled makes
many instants of patient twilight.
02 — Gentle that way
A stack of magazines,
a flat shoe. The corrugations
of another new sun fit
around it all - it all - it all.
Under tools our things suffer
the weather. I prefer the
blade as it comes,
vault my speech. Collect or
not, call or not, blur blink clean
or throw it on the pile. Time
is gentle that way, reliable.
01 — A satisfaction
The world passes like
granite under my skin.
Vision melting to
vision,
swatch fit lock, alchemy
of light by cells, by cell
walls. A spray of color,
a scaffold of green, a ruthless
water intake. Motor-powered
by the tumbling, the tumbling,
the sorting, the working out and
smoothing down.
Look at me.
I'll look back. Rudder and
sea, a satisfaction.