You know the story before I tell it
How do I comprise you
and you and you
This is not the realm of will or desire. To translate silence is to attempt music without human ear or throat.
so many ways of talking about the body’s grace
as though death is a bedroom you’re swept into / by a passion so strong you don’t care what thread / and buttons you scatter behind
I wonder if they’d carry / the sadness of a man like me.
I felt most myself by the river.
My power, my only power
And all at once, the house had twice
as many rooms
rain is a blessing from god she said
covered in hose water and mud