Friday, February 19, 2021



You'll never believe 
the dream I just had: 

I cannot remember 
the details—only that

in it, every action's 
relationship to stillness 

was spectacular-
ly exaggerated. 


Let's just say, 
for the sake of 
the argument, 

the universe 
is made of strings 
that vibrate;

the knot 
of my guts 

might still sing 
"so what?" 

when it's 
strung up above 
the toilet.


If space 
is available,
it must also be retractable.

If time is passing always,
there's no place 
for now and then.

(It has taken 
our prolapse-prone 
organs of attention 

how many 
bleak centuries 
to figure that out?)

Yet, I hardly ever 
get excited 

just to know  
I love you still

as much as I do
when I look forward to 

loving you again 
sometime soon.