it doesn't do any good
 to try to sleep because my heart
 is thrashing hard trying to climb the bone-white
 ladder and i can't tell it no, so instead i try to sing myself
 to peace, hum hallelujah we're home and shut my eyes so i can't
 see that i'm lying (down) and there's no where to go (?) but upwards
 onto the ceiling, body swaddled in musty yarn and clean white sheets, scarf
 threaded with your cologne and cigarette breath around my mouth. (is it Satie
 in my ears or Chopin, or the thrum of your fingers on the wood-paneled wall?) nocturne
 (me) inside out so that my lungs can finally get enough and innermost chaos will crescendo,
 baritone love-notes will echo (oh), the stardust of your sweetest words will fall over my tongue
 and i'll find repose in the blithe lush of memory: a (touch) of beloved chance and a brush of skin in the dark.


it was never you i fled from, you with a heart like a lighthouse and hands that pulled me up from the dirt, never minding when i left mud and wretch on your clothes; and it’s always you i carry through each hour, a glimpse of effervescent eyes and your ephemeral flickered grin, your shoes on my feet and your words braided into my hair. how many times now have i held my head between my hands and damned the chasm swallowing you, effacing me more every day? when was the last utterance of your tender sobriquet, a surprised shout calling from the sky? my stars still laugh in your voice, incandescent amidst the yawning swath of black. how long have you known my dear, that I’m not coming back? that twin bedsheets with blue and yellow stars would stay folded in the cupboard,  your glossy faces taped to walls you’ll never reach? transcend the corporeal swell of water and time, stay close to me and trace my footsteps on the moth-wing map. tell me once again that perilous distance and faces that have begun to set cannot dim the luminescence of your balefire eyes keeping watch over the ocean.