do not charge this woman with making me blow my head off
for bringing the song of her waist to my lips
Jack & Jill went up the hill
to the windy keep of Troy
This was long before
apnea set in and all our woe
Please, pardon my obsession
with the end of things.
What a joyful thought, to hop away from this musty
twilight bookshop air with a chapbook
it is not the collection, but the collecting, that brings wings.
You can see right away there are
at least two stories—
stretched arms this
is lesson #4
like a god, entranced from above,
I felt the whales before I saw them, gorgeous
Then is it that unsaid faces meet alone.
To reword the blur
ghosting the tracks
i may be waiting
while you wait
in the antechamber
A disco ball breaks at the end of the fever.