When the day comes, and it will
Staples
Balancing his work, his lover, his writing
We woke up face to face like lovers
A small dark dot, someone is waving
We are waiting for the drowned man
Stand still a moment, listen carefully
The endless emptiness when they are gone
Something has come to our attention
Facing backwards on the escalator
Full of professors and so-o-o-o American
An Orang-Utan, his dog
A stitch of want below the throat
NAIL
In a filthy alley just below
It’s small things, the unreturned email, the pauses
Belching out the Devil
When I am blind I will feel sunsets
I am glass; you shimmer, you are light
The history in a single grain
I am not much looking forward
I look at this scar, long, incredible. I was wide open once.
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