SLAPKISS

Bottled stars, sailboats that glow in the jaws of century-egg sunsets,

his mother’s questions and his father’s silence, the good silver and time:

what he has is what he’s got, nothing more. There are summers still.

in this way I turn myself inside out inside my lover my narrative plastered within them

I am lighter than ever in all my forgetting I have never felt so comforted before in being myself

agreeing, a car parks on my foot

Always  but a click from the reality of night.

Always  a hand in the dark to catch  your breath and  drowse you with warmth.

Always a oneway tunnel running, without parallel, 

through many lightyears of  blindsight — 

in which the wall is a canvas, upon which the memory is 

of art and  each instant,

an empty page. Always a page 

little lego buildings march along the skyline

holding lifeless souls within them

placid play-dough men

i watch their eyes-

they can't see mine-

begging for a lustrous sky

planted in fields of concrete

aching for plains of sweeping trees

nothing would change, the floors would stay tidy, the bookshelf would keep growing,

i myself would hardly be different, i'm hardened into myself now, stoned into spirit

whatever price there is to pay for this life i will pay it, i say, i imagine, it is what i have understood

to be my hand, all these colours both right and wrong, all my friends come and gone, all my heart

building, where everything i’ve ever known

lives.

I wonder how far I can dig, to take myself

away. Something like that could only

ever happen to me. Falling down a hole

I dug in the middle of the yard.

There’s too much sun, too much smoke,

too many bullets. I could dig until I

couldn’t hear the birds anymore.

I could throw the dirt over my shoulder,

and onto that red brick. And I would

never be seen above ground again.

I could open up and scream into

the worms and fossils, until all

of everything in me crackled

like fire.

And then out the other side my

head would appear, covered in

roots, free.

— down & out

bear, miss south haven,

hoodie stained mustard

by some blood, thanks for

noticing one’s hypnosis,

less lonely dazes have

been said to mindful

twists, closing sunrise,

couldn’t contain a

one hour difference,

act surprised one is

alive, shoot the crap,

throw out an old

corn dog, can’t feed

dead rats, like some

prank to lined faces,

slam the lid to a gasp,

singe the nostrils, musk,

oceanic with coconut, blends

with his sweat, the charm

of a callous woman