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tender_square
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(a poem comprised from the first lines of previous blathes--a technique created by nr--tenses and pronouns adjusted for consistency.)
i want you in the bedside lamplight glow;
turn yourself into an agent of dusk,
two squares of light. i don’t know
what i did to deserve you.
remember when i said i had this intuition?
it was a brand new morning, and
a winter wind tugged the hands of hemlock,
each filament of shed hair sought coupling.
i don’t move with things at the same pace,
the velocity of pressed pedal.
give me a needle and i’ll sew a net
when the way is blocked by rocks.
when we were on the phone, you said,
"drag your finger through sloughed-off
daylight. scrape the weight the sky sheds.
affix names to spaces without possessions."
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