the wind fails the sails and the tide goes out
reappearance of doubt
the rainbow off the trout
waiting for the stars
feeling foolish for imagining—just a dotted line to tragedy—to sign on—to find fault with faith—to create escapes from tracks without stations—much less destinations—I am having conversations in my mind—I rewind times and repeat the same findings—a cord that’s untwining—I am meeting someone who is not myself—I toast both you and each other’s health—I will rearrange the punctuation—capitalize on the aggravation to water the pages in these middledraft stages—I am ready to talk about otherwise—it’s no surprise we won’t—despite promising reflections from various directions—needing exceeding reason—concocting hypotheses that no one needs to believe in—the theory that we all swim on our own courses jumping off our horses and onto our bicycles—the heart to heart cry fills no ears—wait until the seasons turn—the crop is burned in waiting—the cake devours itself in confusion—tired of feeling fired from a job I never had
The First To Turn In Bedding
passing back to a cold sideseat
last in the car
banged by the bathroom door
past warm wool cocoons
sleepflushed faces
unconcerned
here—mother and child together
this one—face upturned to catch dreams
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