VIRAL

Once, we are

children. Then, 

we're adults. 

But after those 

growths, some get hit 

with another spurt: 

the pronouns 

no longer fit; they've become 

a virus.

Oh perfect, 

they mutter. No sooner 

had all of these 

proteins 

learned to 

love themselves

than they up 

and turn

around to discover 

that there's 

no such thing as love 

between molecules.

But this doesn't bother them

as much as they

thought, since

they no longer think about

gratification,

and of course, there were

no such things as

selves

to begin with.

FARCE

Having long since 

grown nervous 

concerning 

what truths 

our eyes might 

be expressing 

when we aren't looking,

gradually, 

we have sketched ourselves 

into cartoons—whose 

frantic expressions 

are always 

good for a laugh, 

and whose 

grinning white 

skeletons might 

survive 

their own deaths.

* 

In the end, it was only 

the stillness 

that killed us. 

The only way 

we knew to head 

for home was 

in a hurry; 

on this fury (and not 

on our affections) 

did we depend—

we 

who would readily 

call ourselves "blessed"

to be 

all made up 

of tiny sentences—such as: 

Nobody's perfect. 

Stupidity tries.

This changes nothing.

Truth is, I lied.

EVENNESS

Even the great big 

eye in the sky—

a perfectly targeted 

ad for this moment—

is so fixed 

that it misses 

the rats asleep 

beneath your car hood.

*

Perhaps all this longing

is the distance 

between persons 

and their sought-

after objects

squared—

and divided by 

the breadth 

of counterfactuals.

*

None of us

is hopeless,

no one immortal. 

Between highest 

widest walls, 

there must exist a 

mostly middle.

Really, need I go on?

OUT OF BONDAGE

Shall we move on? 

Or must we 

keep going—

preemptively 

occupied—

over the 

same ground?

*

When 

god speaks, 

nature 

takes dictation.

And every letter, 

each curled leaf

stem and tendril,

must first be

deciphered, then 

cataloged individually. 

And all 

at the ceremonious pace 

of a glacier—

such that

any creature 

not of the proper likeness

shall perish 

before finishing 

the first commandment's

first sentence.

USER ILLUSION

In my dreams, 

there are 

situations 

and then, 

there are feelings—

an old dog's

barking 

takes the shape 

of isolation;

a great distance 

is crossed 

at the speed of 

self-disgust.

No small 

achievements

for which 

no one 

feels responsible.

But later, 

what amalgam?

what system's 

ghost? is left 

to wonder—

which one 

is prophecy,

and which 

a skeptical 

reconsideration 

of the other?

APPREHENSION

It seems 

many have come 

from miles around 

to admire 

this very fine 

line, which 

their efforts built—

between 

doing things 

for reasons 

and for 

reasons they won't 

admit. 

* 

After the thought  

has been 

set loose—

that the truth is 

our best 

efforts 

do not 

accumulate—

we suddenly find ourselves 

willing 

to negotiate.

*

Now, I realize

no single moment 

could have ever been 

good enough. 

Now, I know 

no kind 

of "now" 

has ever had 

a beginning.

The apprehension 

is a pleasant 

dream;

the mind 

is a rough 

neighborhood. 

DAY AFTER

Cold lumps 

of virginal milk, 

untold sheets from 

unmade beds,

torpid cumulonimbus 

crowds, which

last evening, jammed

a vanishing sky—

this morning, pack 

the illegible streets and

filibuster 

the ground.