Monday, June 1, 2009


You know enough
to know when 
a poem is about you

Your name is signified
in each pen-stroke
I can muster
as much as it lives
in the skins I've shed
in the shower
the skins I keep

You are more present
in this city than I am
I find you in the most
surprising corners

I just found you
lingering above
some irrelevant
the fruit I destroyed
with the ball of my foot
in the kitchen was me
and you were the floor

I am picturing you now
with your neck bent
you angles need to be spoken of

I can't stop your
I would never

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