screamy

for those of you writing, I'm suspicious
I have amillion miles long
I am waiting.
I'll sit with your body folded up in me
we're under them, dots con to each, like the pen drops
on your sheets
wish I could find an animal for it
but no matters.

I am growing, in & up too
I've
left, we've talked about it
I'm here for the 4 or 5
nickey britta luke river dad

I like to look at what the others are doing.
I DO not like to think about what I'd be doing otherwise.
I keep glancing out the window for your
spiderlong
and I am wondering, where did you,
& I fairly shed on you

little consumptions

In late nights I inquire, in daytime I look about sideways at the overcast. In the night I look at the map of a day following, and I listen to the slide guitar drops of permanent rain. A spark of his eyes, the words, the touches, the rekindling she says. Remembering and the sun! o that broad sparkle. Everything like the trains, sometimes they awaken me. It was like a date, but we weren't/ didn't know to think to.

little rift in shortest summer

Can't I not help it, but the weather somehow took a dip in me. Like the last one left, I'm here in the hollow sounds & shapes. But with all sounds of the dogs who live here, too, and they don't want to be alone. They chase ghosts and feel sad about things, but I don't know it. And I don't think it's true. They hear rain in their bones hours before the first drops. I feel it in the texture of the air, and in the speed of my brain at work. I like all the colors of it, and how it makes a sort of round terrarium out of my house. with just two dogs & me in here. All the lush of the plants outside & drinking, and the cat too out there all wet maybe hiding greeneyed glaring from beneath the neighbor's parked car. In the real wet all there. I can't tell, but the rain just glanced off my skin, even as I moved in slowmotion. All the cars silenced by it. Every rush at pause.