I’ve heard sometimes
the only way out is through
when there are no safe places
but outside your head and
you wanna be brave
because you wanna be known
because you don’t wanna be scared
all the faces will never come off
Touch him
Tell him it’s not him
Name him
Silence wakes into a bass drum
slow and smooth and hard
he names you too
he touches you
transparent sets of hands
maybe that kind
reaches you finally-
dropping out with a voice this time
leave it up to me this time
let’s be beautiful once
a shared vacancy
is all I can ask for
and even then that’s not enough
is it
to keep away the sleep.
This is the damage you
have to swallow.
Weren’t we beautiful once
Difficult Degrees 
Soul of the sentence, heart of the heart: maybe intimacy is itself a pantheon of degrees, each one proximal and wild, awesome and awful. And words trick us into believing we can fully know the other’s infinite degrees, both fading figure in the glade and startling object of our plural frenzies … (“Name him.”) Sorry Charlie, the hungry muses sing, we don’t wan’t tuna with good taste, we need flesh inside flesh, heart of the heart. What are we devouring anyway? The dream is neither sphinx nor sphincter but all of it, the whole she-bang we love and die of. What is a poem but a day-bed aboat the ocean? Keeps it interesting.. and thanks for seeing it fecund. And pardon all this shouting what you already know. I haven’t been able to read you of late, hope you are keepin’ on keepin’ on. Rapt in the bass drum of de meters. Happy Yule. Don’t disappear.
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Very intense, for me I feel it’s filled with yearning and pathos. makes my heart break as I read it.
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Well you hit the nail on the head. Because it’s exactly all that is, that part, thank you for reading 😍
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