Waveform

I am on two momentae.
The surf is
on.
Beginning with an ending,
ending with a beginning,
this is what I mean by riding a wave
onto another wave.
This cannot be the work of my thoughts,
I conclude, but here I am.
Steady(ing).

Put In

In the end
we're gonna say we were just
floating around like champagne corks,
eventually hitting the ground
then be lodged back in.
We'll say
that's us, holding contents in the bottle,
and we'll be content
on a shelf
to be arranged with dust.

Just

This creative thing,
i
don't have permission for
i
don't have the authority to engine it,
and what happens when i turn my palm upward
is that i notice
the estuaries at knots with my forearm,
a map of the vitality needed to write
This.
i
don't have a trail of footsteps to follow
where i imagine i'm heading
in fact,
i
don't even know where ahead is.
all i see is This thing
slippery between the fingers coiling and grasping
from within the gashes of my brain.
turning over an abyss
i get to expect my eyelids to close like lids over bread bins
and open a less-than second
or hours after
to the same space as if it's just been captured on film.
click
and it's a trail of crumbs disappearing 
in the desolation of everything behind.
i
don't see it.
This, no remains.

prepositions

in twos
pieces of a conch shell
pressing into what could have been
the window
, a shore from which a pondersome look stretches,
taking in a life of plankton
somersaults in unpocketed
grasps, grasps,
grasps at

in twos
the dangling curtain ribbons
squeezing into a present, tense
but firmly shut
darknessings
wherever there is room to crash
upon hundred million forevers of
approach
of approaching

in twos
surgery lines cuddle asphalts
railings shiver while bridging
comingclosers,
left with two sails
afloat, is, there tatters
there tatters

Lorde

she's weird.
not proud of her address,
projecting into the microphone
her spider limbs.
the applauding stampede behind her teeth
an auditorium for me in the front row.
gouged in her lower lip
she has me all and over
eyelids drawn
cranium side-wound,
enjoying.

in cities

you laughed
explosions
occlusions are what we had
after silver plates came, went,
oars boating their way to tomorrow.

my scratched shoes
you left indentations in the landscape, in them,
wherever you sent your presence
to gravitate

you and i
caught raining

the more we love,
the more we moved 
in the past sense.

dear,

i live in an hourglass shape with you

it is wonder that the middle between us
has only space enough
for fingers rolling over palm lines

i can trace the diagonal breaths you give
that i take
i want to give them back to you.

thank you for
breaking open the glass on your side

you prevented my walls
from fogging up, so i could still see your
slanting eyes

i can only hope to keep chipping at mine
so i can join you in floating away 

love,