The beginning is
never enough. Your kiss
uncurls like
treasure maps, hot

Frosting,
cinnamon to
pull apart and

Anchors, always
anchors.

Reeling away
at your
calico heart.

Take careful stock of
empty. The room there is
to swim
in double spaces. Take

four strokes, breathe, take four
strokes,
breathe, take four strokes,
tuck, turn, breathe. Set

everything you’ve shouldered
out
to sea.

A time will come
to walk North.

Willows
usher the way.

Clouds wait.

You waited.
I was waiting too
No one knew.

There are houses that
we live in. Bags of
bones and promise rivers
want
to wash away. There is

time, less left
to play with. Voices,
fingerprints and hearts
to throw. There are newborn

dreams to rock, mayflies
to catch and chase
with mirrors, Space
can’t help

but learn to fit
the way

We fill.

We could be eating pasta. Or
waiting for a left-turn
signal. Your elbow
comes to mind.

How I’ll hold
it.

Bite you.

If I wrote you a letter, It would start with
Hello. And ask about
The band.

And the letter would smile and forget
To explain things better left
Unknown.

And just before signing
The letter’s name
It would kiss you, Because
It’s a letter.

It can.

Why do you insist on
turning inward? Branches
curving in the wrong
directions. Limbs
growing heavy until you are hard
to move.

At night we share
an armchair rest. Swaying with
the trains.

The newest leaves
are heart-shaped, green like Spring
and shiny.

Why do you insist on
turning inward?

The director of IT is
Requesting a password.

Pretending
To ask permission.

Applying service pack 10
Point 6
Point 3,
To the new version
Of me,

Now available
For download.

Out of nowhere
Wind finds
Nowhere’s kisses.