Every time I sit there

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every time I sit there, smoking,

I have some thoughts,

rambling and pastel,

merging with the weed flower

the crows in the sky,

and the dull rooftops.

I’m ashamed, you know,

seeing those cigarette butts

decomposing

with the dead copper autumn leaves.

what would I say to sanity, for instance,

or to my old green veins which

seem to get along well with the

purple yarn of my cardigan?

it’s still cold, you see,

and having a cup of earl grey

is as plastic and drunk

as the questions in my head.

no promises can be made here

but songs can be rewritten and sung.

I hate the smell of the smoke on my body

it always makes me feel, well, dirty

but it can stay there for a while

and when I speak, it’s in the same tone

and pace, the same amount of ellipses,

borrowed joy and learned pride, too

so it might as well be nothing.

I meet the water color version of you

in every coordinate of the cloudless sky

and the breeze, hatefully or playfully

(I can never tell, but it doesn’t matter),

blows the smoke back onto

my freezing cheeks and fingertips.

“what halts you now?” says the weed to Spring,

“the squirrels are nowhere to be seen.

is it the emptiness, again?”

the crows cry way up there,

the wind stops grazing,

I put off the last flickers, and,

for a moment, all that pulse

stop pulsing. haze.

“Save me some of it; this

madness should end somehow.”

and it does end,

every time I sit there,

smoking.

2006

you

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until they melt

you don’t stop

in any way

you, there

and nowhere

until they end

you thrive

wants don’t stay

longer than

heartbreak

you brush

this chapter

on and off

until I simply am

a symptom

wet soil

on your sole

one rainy day

you stomp,

leaves fall

until I subside

dew on your window

wounds healed

and opened

by love poems

minds tell stories

then believe

then sleep

and dream

then forget

inanity

until a night walk

wakes me up

to revive this

until I dissolve

in light

lightness

you breathe

you stay

you

2006