In the winter alley’s crystal darkness I wept
Listening to a song about American drug death,
My reserves uncoiling.
I backed myself against brick
While she played billiards in extreme unknowing.
The night pooled onward, this
Christian dimness ripe with unusual eviscerations.
I wish I knew her better.
Oh for a local Noc list, open the door. She can’t
Compare to what I had found installed in her room
When she wasn’t there.
And I staggered into an engagement with Cinema
Wanting to share what I had discovered with her.
She touched me appropriately on the arm and
Tried convincing me that all would be psychologically
What was the secret of sunlight? We
Wouldn’t know in the back what we hoped to
Conquer. I returned to the bar/arcade. And
My face had been concealed by tribes of snow.
She wrote too, but not as much. Did she like living?
We blasted away at the previous together while I
Made payments to forgetting. Tim had a talk with
His woman that she’d heard thanks to me. She listened.
I asked her to listen. And listening she heard the aura.
Communicating through typed words found she
Couldn’t be accessed in that way.
Bastards buried in the unofficial snow. She was passed around
And hugged. She drank with us and obliterated feeling.
With her I became pictures. And we bunched ourselves
Together as friends if friends we were. She laughed mid-wave,
Her colorfully stocking’d thigh pushed out like euphoria’s island.
Would reading the same things she’d read broach a kind of
Alternative kiss, sidelining what she’d told me with friendly fire?
I would never find out. Oh I must have been solved.
To a time-honored standstill. And we spoke more, and had shared
Interests though we could never be together, yet that was not
The reason I left. It would be maybe, in our future. Consequences
Dribbled and draped over the her she was becoming for me. Out of
The blue then, I walked up alongside her. And I elected to speak.
A fire on your privacy
Kicked up one shiv
And globes were fallen and sucked.
Evil music bathed us
On top of you where I had moved.
The you I needed wanted me back
But you were the wrong you. So I
Moved to Abilene.
Grab them there, and collect.
I am a film critic.
You didn’t know there were
Different ways of approaching
The art. We together make
Your experience brighter.
We hate each other and I stand alone.
So many films, how can they be
Reviewed in a timely manner befitting
Their heedless rush out the door? I love
The bad ones. They need me and I
Don’t know what to do with them except
Praise their dented incongruities.
I chase you at the movies.
Walking down 2nd Avenue I brushed
Sandpaper out of my eyes and stood
In truth at the corner of Store and Store. There
Were no interlopers at the spots where I tried to think
And while I didn’t know a soul I
Made it easier for myself to stroll after idle gardens.
When it becomes clear I’ll know. We checked with them.
Certainly the ottoman was becoming unstitched, and yet—
Yet—I forewarned you about stalling. It was a bad note.
We the jury find the defendant sexy.
And we thought there was a possible
Exposure in that. What I found were more movies than you would
There were in the bucket. Tons. And I took them,
Absorbed, into my neon chest. Where they thrive to this day.
There at the bottom
Lurks a problem even Griffith
Couldn’t solve with his awe
If I could stop writing about this person
I’d make the effort. Lord knows they would appreciate
It. And my only reader wouldn’t mind. But alas
I opened my freezer yesterday to find an entire boy
Waiting to be dusted off and presented, he blinked
And the plan was to set him free when The Group felt like bending.
Could be a glen of sentences, all covering Pop Music. You
Really must try them. The fashionably overheard were right
There like a jar of pickles splintered and not presentable. You
Couldn’t just let it breathe could you, well I can, and did.
He kept writing to me asking about her health, and I lied
To him, yes, but only to protect a love I thought was prominent
But turned out to be counterfeit moonbeams.
So much of my life is oneiric and tinted.
Oh Jonesy, did you survive? I can’t hold in rubber blood forever.
One day this will all be annotated, and you’ll understand.
However on the carriage ride it was his idea to kiss. And with
The train I thought about getting off two stops before my
Obvious departure space. Wouldn’t that be winsome. A
Saga of warmth eluded me, which is exactly why the confession
Lacked merit. There’s this problem I have now where I can’t do
The assigned readings but I can read all the rest of the sun’s
Offerings. Shoot me. Render it complete in its mystery.
Can you untangle her tingle? I stole that. Forgiveness is an
Entity this nation cannot get back, except though extradition. While
Her gams were perfect, there was something inappropriate about her Refusal to share them with the named monsters of the deep. Surrendering a grain of babble was out of the question. Stop. I could
Find a corrective. I wanted to press myself against you but instead Located your college boyfriend and tortured your favorite joke out of Him. I was in Paris when I unexpectedly dropped the ransom, which
Was 500 milligrams of shredded come. Keep following me if you like.
I got a text from her saying she was hyper busy
And even her closest
Friends didn’t know where she was, it was final, I wasn’t in the
Mood to respond but still I did because I’m like that, a “nice” guy,
Though really this didn’t take, she was out of control but free, too, and
Enthusiasms coalesced and swallowed logic, which painted reanimated
Flowers like they were Emmanuel. Everyone made pictures in 2005. His Poetry
Was late to the party though.
Took me fifty plays to see the song’s beauty, and agog I tried
To sleep in but breakfast beckoned and I ate wishing I was eating
With the creator of Blue Afternoon but I was a couple decades too late.
In America, the city remained unpublished. We have a funny Relationship, the girl and I, she explores and I can’t shut up. Understanding is important in alliances, sure, but what if obsession
Trumps blindness? What it means is I’m in love with a delusion. Of Course. I think really the problem was she had three first names, and
That was why she fucked him and left him for one of those Silicon
Valley poindexters and he only stopped coming to me about the trauma one year
I should buy a house by the river. Worked for him. We could use Telescopes to watch each other sleep there, and while beauty fades
The auditorium still separates us by years and I had been blocked
Yet thankfully it was reversed. The other one guessed at a porn site
And I’m lucky I escaped with my balls. That family was weird.
While on Supreme Street it was required by law that you walked around
On stilts. Never could get accustomed. Damn things were bait for cats. On the other hand she wore black masks that should have been mistaken for a death aesthetic. I swear she looked like a phantom right out of a Feuillade serial. We have
To have sex like yesterday.