The Matchbook Diaries

 

 

On a train, near winter.
Sickening in the glow.

 

So-and-so was here.
The both of us.

 

*

 

To step, each step--
to wile away.

 

*

 

Bright pavilions of gas stations.
Crocuses and touch-me-nots.

 

If locusts bend to their reflections.
If indigo.

 

*

 

Across the pivotal,
stilled a we--

 

And, out of nothing, a breathing.
The poor only words I know.

 

*

 

Hammerful,
the sea thus.

 

The border from which
a heavier light depends.

 

*

 

The sidewalks flash silver with mica.
Skyline smeared with geese.

 

By way of recognition
I lost the sound of your voice.

 

*

 

Splint of blossoms and Blue
Heron. Sunlight rapid

 

on the rocks of a shallow stream.
Undoing and

 

*

 

Dear K,
I cannot write a sonnet.

 

The smell of tulips
doesn't remind me of anyone.

 

*

 

Blot of moon through the rush-grass.
The humid air a gray bride.

 

*

 

Consider how the shadows lean,
and despite insomnia

 

how the room outlasts you.
No single light.