i. be a threat to nothing that would listen
kids, a baby, a sister, a presence in the room, a sonnet
a satellite, the moon, the truth, a lake, a bundt cake,
a sweetheart, anything with dna
it will be ok if you lie with us here today
on your way to whoever or whatever
a stone's throw from the forest wall
be the weightlessness of an electrical storm
in the middle of the night
come with me in essence
watch your step
i can hardly remember walking into a bright
shallow as the truth
awake - yes - still alive
be delicate to protect your fringe matters
tell me to heartache, even for him
no harm will come to your cryptography
from having nightmares or a connection with something
she's crying out for help but i cant help her
it's time to go home
ii. “get in the grave mama” said the
honeybaby girlscout with an instamatic
who can barely multiply - she ran away from home
before something bad both happened to her and
howling “i’m sorry” over and over again
shared a mistake with you of some kind
hot enough to turn sand into clouded glass
a glass ocean by the smell of it
a shallow blister a killer sunburn
“listen to me, all of my life”
she must seem pregnant looking for anything
the lake? a battle?
”i cant even get myself up out of bed” she said
i had this amazing ritual
i've told this story so many times now
a source of friction of some kind might appear
(could be right over there)
every time i take a look at it twelve brandenburg concerto fragments
(just a fraction)
a few here, a few there
playing loud and long enough
the intent of which disappeared years ago
as you know
should i publish my x-files poetry newsletter TWICE a month instead of ONCE a month?