Usually we think of things how they seem. We’re elastic bands though we may seem
like human beings.
I like licking the white plastic torn pure from the top of white yogurt containers—
vanilla. Millions of live bacteria trying to see her
in Manila without color and without eyes
help to maintain my bodily balance.
Looking out from ideas mistaken for eyes for one another
is time: a weird diamond
getting harder and full of emptier,
we are deaf ear tempters clenching diamonds because we come from black holes.
the optimum time
What you think you’re doing?
Peeking through a plank with a five inch-knothole.
Fake ID from three different states.
Sneaking into the old movie house without paying.
Staring at the Old Master and declaring,
I can paint better than this shit.
The prophet buried
in the soil of Eden
to balance the clock
and the globe
My window is adorned with planets.
Waiting is the small orgy
of wet arms and parabola necks.
Someone had to flirt with the errors
we face, when midnight blurs a teary star
from the face of the ancients.
This is the edge of hope
where curtains fall
and follow through with an actor’s murder.
The sea foams turquoise
A gull’s screech staggers softly
I long for salt breath
It escapes like breath
Water sound on my eardrum
Tall grass in high tide
A woman carries
a basket on her should
a bomb cannot have
a broken back. can only
take the arms of others, yet