Agony

It’s the great tragedy—just great. Days roll into rapturous balls with small lights inside them. He says: My first kiss felt like an ave maria. I call anything that has happened ‘once.’

Ditty ditty ditty
do we do do do

Just look at us, headless as usual, sitting around this large oak table. I’m leaning into it, elbows trembling, and you—what are you going to do? Whisper something ancient—about Oedipus, the brown stains water makes on old stones. It’s this familiar city, an old voice, arms around my waist and I want to sneak out.

-

One must enter a dream cautiously, toe-first.

What we don’t know, for instance, is like a skin.

I see you doctored around the eyes—your entire face falling into the eyes. And in between your index and middle fingers: The Smallest Camera Ever. I need only breathe.




Trees smudge the windshield to no avail—they are simply taking place.


The dogs in our eyes roll over.
They are too small
to be our babies. Too unpaid.
They just lay around the world for a while.

When we say ‘that’s beautiful’ we mean ‘I’m sick with it.’
Never the bride. Andy Warhol white. Just get on with it.