In a Rut

We told ourselves we

wouldn’t tell you, but

you’re in a rut.

No matter, though.

We’ll get the thing

of you to go.

When? Not now.

How? Tomorrow

when you wake,

you’ll know.









.

Sometimes When You Wake Up

Sometimes when you wake up

you feel orange and alone;

as if your flesh were seeking

new relationships with bone,

you morph into peculiar shapes

you’ve never been before –

and when you hope for less of that

you merely bring on more.









.

Affectionate Efficiency

We guessed that this was it –

this unexampled fit –

wherein what needed could be gratified –

wherein what yearned could learn to ride

               

where yearning wasn’t interesting –

to be the tenderest thing:

the dawn of warm sufficiency –

affectionate efficiency.







.

Conversation

Expatiating on whatever comes

from all the beats and thrums

of that plucked instrument
we might as well describe as “mind” –

catching fleeting aims in aimlessness –

attaching names, imagining

what kind of specificities we’d like

to find, and finding them;

the usefulness of pause –

the forceful clause commencing

with ahem – attempts at a relation:

the strangeness of a conversation.

.