I like something from nothing.
a noise capable of vibrating beyond the universe’s final heartbeat
God’s angry with the world again
On the poplar, on the poplar, on pain
I’ve forgotten all the lines I was thinking
Have I not had my fill of you, dream babies?
In the morning / the mind looks out onto a street / blurry with self.
so you hummed / and they hummed back
I had imagined grief to be the trilobite
The wick is lit / like a gun.