untitled (8 of 10)

when I'm by myself and I've had too much coffee

or too much wine

or too much coffee then too much wine

or too much wine then too much coffee. 

a lukewarm milky intoxication.

room temp and tepid. 

wish you would pick me up.  

wish to-do so-many things

make up my mind and do them 

I'm tired and it's tomorrow 

but it's still today. 

because 8 of 10 thoughts drift to you. 

because there are still hairs of yours

in my hair brush 

that is yours. 

because I have the picture of us 

behind a pile on the dresser

our foreheads showing.

here's where we begin

I was staring at the moon. big & low & yellow. He was talking but I wasn't listening.

I think I do believe.

Feeling my heart beat on the forth rib from the top, it's maybe just a muscle twitching. The assumption of how a movement should feel when it's actually subtle, un-feel-able. Not completely unperceived, I can feel the beating at times, times of quiet and times of raucous disregard--feeling alive. I must have a beating because I am alive, and I must be alive because my heart beats, though it too be a muscle twitch.

untitled (I would)

I would flip through 

every page to find you

to get you out of a book

to touch a page & feel 

the ink on the paper

tissue paper pages

a bible, a religious book

a verse, a story, a lesson

not listened to

I'd fill in all the spaces

in the letters

with black ink.

the 'a's the 'e's & 'b's & 'd's 

the 'g's 'o's 'q's & 'p's

I would.