everything will rust
you turn on your side and i turn with you
i don’t have cell service or i pretend not to
you twitch to the step of the raindrops you can’t hear
yourself hearing the mirror is reflecting the sky actually
color of the book of the color of your ear or is it your nose
can’t remember what we’re calling which after being
stupid with you for so many nights in a row
the light color of the book the light if i’m asleep the difference
between a bagel express bagel and a pick a bagel bagel
and it’s the color of your twitch color of the rain outside
if i’d bothered to do the math i could have told you exactly
what time we were finally going to give in and open the window
to let in the cold air we so desperately desperately

if it were the same as taste if without olfactory sensation
there were five distinct emotions no one would ever eat
it starts or ends in the tips of your fingers but it’s all over your skin like skin
in the center it rises forever like leaves do against a sky at night
distance drunk on the night’s grass they call it dizziness but this isn't
it's continual falling or flying that doesn’t go anywhere
this is when she comes up to you looking vaguely familiar but eyes gray
and says, “every morning’s golden until the night to be”
which loses its significance with every silent repetition
you wake to the flight of airliners overhead you go to
sleep again and wake again to the patient step
of a roommate cooking breakfast nobody else but you
hears the neighbors out playing and you’re blessed by it
it wasn’t what she said but how it felt the earth the gray eyes left of america

too hot and too thin sweating in sweatpants jamas no we’re naked
and sweat saw an ad for a gym said make sweat sexy hmm
amazing the things they’ll print these days america
have you got to go soon i have a flight in hours there’s always someone missing
from an image i must have had a lot to drink last night you did
that’s why i’m over blink and the world is gone blink i was kidding
everything’s the same i’m sorry america but i think this can’t
continue i think next time will have to be the last time i think i
must have drank a lot last night i was at a party downtown i left
immediately which i have a tendency to do it’s too hot and your
blinds are both thin i wake up early anyway our time on earth
short so i like to spend as much of it with the sun as possible
how drunk was i when you came over drunk enough to have me over
ok

in
a
spring
stairwell
in
this
second
our
breath
burned
by
fire
extinguisher
dust


everyone says i’m a good listener but really i’m a thief
where i lived the highways run north and south there’s
just two ways about it when you’re in a place where i was
rural suburban america everyone’s talking about when
they’re gonna leave or who they're gonna fuck next it was
very clear i was gonna go somewhere talking about tattoos
a watermark appeared over our conversation the roman
numeral intravenous sipping hot air out of the jet stream
into my amygdala the only tattoo i ever liked was the only
one the wearer wouldn’t go on about with the curtains all
the way up i can’t see where this coffee shop ends and
tomorrow starts what i do know is before the third
industrial revolution i’ll write a poem that ends my heart
is in my pocket it is Lunch Poems by Frank O’Hara

catching myself accidentally wearing red white and blue
mornings should look like this
“the buildings there go all the way around”
and the sky so blue
this picture is like a painting by Hopper
she likes seas on stormy days because it’s harder to tell where the sky begins
yes the streets are dirty look at how dirty we are
i’ll forget my phone in an uber with you
when i come back you’ll still be here
the camera etching into the grass its own ideas of form and silhouette
under a half summer half winter sky
lavender sky
a cold road on a dark night
mold on the ceiling i think? but we’re renting so

a framed photograph of my grandmother and father holding my dad
i keep it because america looks so much like my grandmother
dionysus calculated the incarnation of christ
as having occurred 525 years prior to his figuring it
but it is unknown when during the incubation period of the human fetus
dionysus felt life had begun
the dog turns the grass yellow and now he’s making patterns on the lawn
it’ll be a right turn onto a gravel road i’ve included a picture for you
ditch your old friends
Stretching Light
celebratory gunfire rang out in mog
as soldiers sprayed bullets into the sky
a frogman santa wielding an underwater welding torch
fifty feet down a chimney full of muck

summer 2015-spring 2017
thanks to ariana, christian, colt, ed, edward, eve, frank, georges, kanye, kate, louise, matthew, michael, pierre, sandra, vera and wikipedia
“when i come back you'll still be here” from “twin fantasy (those boys)” by car seat headrest
“celebratory gunfire...into the sky” by gettleman
“a frogman santa...full of muck” from “the second avenue subway is here!” by nick paumgarten