Entwined with each other
Lying in the silence of the night,
Your Vernier caliper
My coffee mug,
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I’ve noticed I only get nostalgic when I’m lonely.
Even with the life I’ve left behind me, there’s something
that I’m missing, like the trinkets that spilled out of the
overpacked trunk of the car in front of us on the way to Ohio;
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don’t you think?
what more could you ask for?
maybe a tin man or a cowardly lion
maybe anything apart from what I am
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Above, the winds blew sorrowful
Tears from the weeping sky,
Which wet the hair of that woeful
Girl who sunk her head to hide
Beneath the shelter of her brow,
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It’s as simple as this: her hair looked soft on her cheek
And it took my breath away, my heart
In a thousand pieces- I never decided this,
Longed to ignore it, to not imagine
What could be, don’t you think I tried
To lock it all inside of me?
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Records continued to spin,
the canvas industry remained powerful as ever,
and writers briefly looked up from their page,
grateful for a moment’s excuse
to explain why they weren’t writing.
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Ascending Dot, I knew your Grandfather.
He went from beetle strength to beetle strength
(strength is the sword he bears, the mailed garb
the stone-faced no-face). Late, the driveway was
a murdering meadow where he crept, and lived.
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