How To Brave Night
Love should come with four exclamation marks, not three.
My heart goes bird poem, bird poem, bronchitis, triceratops.
I was born a world with my lips into your chest.
I brought the dust to its settle. Never three-way with ghosts.
Slowly gorging in rhythm while burning down
wildfires—wonder how last names curve like highways.
The Age of Yelling Love & doing it wrong.
I believe we all came from passion, the last seconds
of ticking, the directness of locked doors. Say burnt coals walking
through feet. Falling in place, throw rocks
at everything. I think best while counting Eskimos.
Say the smell you make when you moan. Or, how an angel
eats macaroons. Even so, yesterday in your different hair,
attaching strings to clouds. Alone with wind. I came here
to tell you I have loved everything once.