Time Doesn’t Exist

except as vessel for desire



Bore

of little stallions under glass



The zipper of sun through the windshield

the way your mouth moves



Whistles taut and right

a quince tree silvers the sling of your back



The red jay tramples

advertise yourself as red



The whorls of your fingers repeat on the tablecloth

a single match worn away



Quick and sour with sun

handsome and scabbed with wind



Is a noun presenting a beautiful woman who allows herself to sing

clumsy with whisky



A plastic bag full of plastic bags

put everything back



Among us willing to sprint

does it register as someone you’ve been desiring



Is the fun that is done though I'm sorry I haven't had much time to belong

swallowlight sounds nearly soundless



Sat against the sloppy memory where starlings swallows

spread red thigh



All those kitchenettes stuck

spoons castor against my skull



When the lamp shone though was bitter

how steep embodies steep



Light and pillow and a butter pat collide

stalks empty slippers



Now to have more lightning

if I feed whitenesses moss



I harm my spools against you

the mirror effect of water waiting



The river is causal from this height

wind blooms against my fingers happiness



Mention leather and whippets stand on their bellies

colors I know you might prefer my laugh with a cut lip



The spinning jenny spun

flesh



Who built the floor which holds the table

curious flesh with shut blue hands



A ceiling anticipated

such yellows spin tires on commercials for tires



I wore a pillow as a body

or maybe a cat to a disinterested passion



Half a hard hard candy tucked in the chip of your cheek

the drip a red red symbol



Whereas metaphor made me an iced tea

you transformed you



The location suggests the meaning

astronauts lonely in your hands



Grasshoppers woke my pillow

with fermentation with lightning bugs



Until I’d suppressed desire I saw pin-black specks of blood

ticks smashed sidewalk flat



A dirty air

farmland flirts with itself



Thinking of you last night a spoonful fills my apartment

I come back and you’ve taken a job on a fishing boat off Alaska



I know a bridge is a kiss

finds you wet along the skin of the pour



When I see wool I sweat

when you see wool do you



Your honesty teaches me for this present

limp is no indication of how I was raised



Does

away from being silent together



Another lay green flute drawn

against tongues we forgot to tell



Water and strange machines of ellipses

waiting frames sleep



And we bow

to blue the banks slant with noon



Giving recognition though clearly through bad sun or drip

as I’ve ever felt pennies lifted by the handful off my belly