We talk about our day, we talk about our
Families. It seems to me to be missing the point.
I want to tell you of a slip of moonlight I saw
Over the grasses, I want to tell you how
The air tasted over the ocean. These things
Sunk to the bottom of me and changed the
Composition of who I am. This is the
Privacy beyond privacy, these are bits of
Promises to myself of what to remember,
These are the scraps of loveliness that make up
My inward temple. Oh, there isn’t a way to
Bring it up, and if there is, I don’t know it.

And here is where my heart is broken
But this piece changes shape, and grows smaller with the times
And here is where I loved best
Because here is where I found you 

With a sawing motion,
I slice downward with the knife.
Moving over about two inches, at an angle,
I repeat the cut.

The brevity of dangerous
conversations
between cast iron
pipes
and
the concrete necropolis +

I am discord,

He’s obsessing, not over nurses or sexy librarians, but over mermaids.

“C’mon, give me Narcissus,” the photographer yells at her male model.

Months later, I am frog-eyed, stumbling drunk;
bronze bowls of milky-white makkoli rimmed,
spilling on the oak tabletop occupied
by tall, high-nosed foreigners, end-to-end.

I misspell finantial,

on purpose
who the fuck is
General Tso
they like his chicken
now strip mall domesticated
masses crave and always get
options

First king of Corinth I was evil and took

pleasure in tyranny, murdered my guests

and deflowered Merope of the Pleiades,

the virgin nymph who hides her face for

shame she married me