now that i know you,
every step i take is a funeral
for my imperfect self
(that empty shell
clothed in dead minutes,
leaking crimson memory)

because i am an action
(is and will be
never again was or has been)
and my rusty hands hum,
spilling over with verbs
that careen through the idle evening,
pulling me into the whirlpool
of your dark, damp hair

(and even the smallest crease
of your lips
cracks open the sleeping sky

and every spontaneous atom
of my wooded heart
leaps upwards
into the explosive night)

06/28/2012

Author's Note: i is.

Posted on 06/28/2012
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