Tremble Pass

We were joined in our loss and alienation like an anchor of solidarity;
sinking.

In the drift
you said you’ll never make it out without me.
And when I cured and turned and left,
I couldn’t have known then
how much I would miss your arms around me now.

Diebmädchen

I saw you across the street today. You dyed your hair red. The lines in your face are so much deeper now. Your determined gait remains unchanged; the same as last I saw you when we were just twenty three years old. I was surprised to see you, but somehow I’ve always seen you. This afternoon it just materialized for those few moments. As I watched you walk away, I tried to think of some catalyzing memory but all I could see was your naked body on the floor of my rented room at Columbia. There wasn’t a bed, not even a mattress. But you were there and you were mine. And later on those nights, the descending sun and cool breeze coming down on the Hudson would have us retreat under the wool hitchhiking blanket that we bought from the Indians in Arizona. And you whispered sweet lies to me. And I believed them. Because I thought it would never end.

Tell Me Ness

Do you know who I am?
Because I’ve been dying to know.
Sometimes our place in paper.
Sometimes our place in sound.
Tell me all your broken secrets.
Tell me broken haste to know.
Tell me your regrets tomorrow.
Now distills the never known.

Sand Between My Toes

All of my reprise and expectation
Tangled in my lies of omission
Brandished in my curt confession
Sounding broken chords to hear
Your requite
Your reciprocation.
Hoping
Your face
Your voice
Your elegance
This persistence.

Distance

Today’s light fades and counts its debts away.
The cars and shadows between our velocities.
Mine blurs in tunnel, yours blurs in overpass.
Stop this time to listen.
To the friction in our momentum.
To the spaces between our places.
You hear it’s here.
Where it never ended.