More on: Poetry

Loneliness, everywhere
Within especially

Folded into myself

I’m a shadow cast by the moon in a cold pass at midnight, far away.

It’s a war you shelter.
You shelter it inside your God.

It’s the body that’s alone, a harbor
waiting for new ships.

I’m constructing
a heaven of pixels like tiny, vibrating dimes, falling stars
I can scoop up and offer in two hands.

what a way to go
siloed high up
like he was

To think of you
is to have the sense that I will never be seen
by anyone who has language
again.

To withdraw like a fly or amuse oneself / like a submarine in a fjord misnamed a canal.

Light a candle. Open a door
Too small to walk through.

We were our ugliest at that point,

Pale and flaccid under greasy coats.