microwave dreamingi want to watch a hundred thousandMore Like This
varied frames like the sound of a second.
breathe this in, this life
like a bottle of flowers. everything will become
like a glowing glove, like a burning map.
there is too much to be in awe of. the
speckled light of microwave on my hands.
the sound when the days end
and the nights explode, this
explosion is a hundred thousand frames
per second desperate for the moment when
we fall apart my heart
is a water balloon. deep on the shores of the atlantic
hold me like a frozen tide.
we would never make the news
but we made a thousand stereoscope slides.
we wanted life to be in three dimensions.
i dreamed about a fire escape and white white walls.
i woke up saying i do not hate myself.
i do not hate myself look
at this road the words got frozen to my tongue.
when i die, i wonder if i will miss the color yellow.
i know i miss it when i dream.
five downlove, tell me -More Like This
tell me i see the future and you
will wind up well alone;
i don't want you with anyone,
i pull your air into my lungs,
an influenza in every syllable of
breath. and i am a cluster of hills
across your face, the reason you
said you didn't believe in
wearing sandals in july.
i keep track of time
in terms of crossword puzzles,
sundays especially difficult
because i used to pray like god listened
to my repents and hopes then.
you would take my unfinished columns
and fill them in with a different pen colour
and that was how i knew things were
and there was never any bitterness
to it either, the passing hand to hand
of platitudes that wilted like the heads of birds
but never broke too much. tomorrow night
i will do the sudoku puzzle instead and
ask the moon to put its trauma back
where you kept the pencils
(when you kept
than the needle)
instead i tuck my hands
under the pillow beneath my head,
hoping that hiding them
will keep me safe.