other animals

My eyes burn from that screen and the brilliance they seek why do you smirk when I say that like you’ve never let the air out of someone’s balloon just to see and yes my arms are asleep again but it’s the third night in a row hearing that strange rondel in the woods and though we try to ignore it there’s something familiar if not quite comforting there like when you can finally take off those wet clothes close the door and sit down to a nice hot cup of what it would be like to finally start that immense project on the sea floor

. [pauses to examine a small blood-smeared stack of index cards]

the rumble of dump trucks recycle part of the dream where I rush into the heart of this subterranean distillery because my feet are cold no matter what my ears itch where I can’t scratch I wonder why they say snow is coming it’s always the case so what do we do if the insects really are gone is there a new equilibrium for this house of cards all this time growing smaller and needing reading glasses to see what my hands are up to but these different wails who might be butchered for their oils and in the end the meat washed out to sea but you don’t need me to tell you

. [drinking a small glass of green liquid that smells vaguely of bandages]

those stale dreams discarding seeds into my nest if I try to remember to remember by dawn when I will find a pen that can stand the weight this season nearly over so how small can you make yourself when the new fall lineup means sure destruction for the likes of us who never knew the touch of an industrial mother or even a decent chocolate chip cookie though with this small and responsible lunch I’ll speed my way past new apartment’s skeleton frames and these tiny parks built for squirrels and what is this cramp in my hand has the timer ended and I missed it or hasn’t any of it started yet

I’m not even sure sometimes why I open the notebook in the cicada-littered summer dumpster-diving raccoons running out

of hyphens at least the morning cool decent coffee the old stump finally yanked out but this bad egg I have to swallow this ache I can’t attach a story to and where do you break

off but that’s the default I suppose if we know the well is running dry we feel guilty about every sip but forget about the rain

and sure it’s my own dumb fault drowning on land unsure how to shout for help so

what I want to say is that I’m glad you stayed on the track I couldn’t find and maybe someday you may think of me and laugh but in a good way

But it’s good. A place to start. Drips on the sill. Stop. Inward. Not out. If possible. Where we are. What to sacrifice. To cultivate. Sometime. The work gets done. And you don’t even realize. Which streams will lead to the ocean. Hard to concentrate. With. This. Silence. In her travel journal. The dance books of bees. The work of decades. Thousands of millions of minuscule parts. When it rains one way. Drips here. Drips there. This hat won’t do. For a deluge. But my new favorite ink. Finally this life back in stock. Through smudges. Hard to account for the grown-ups. So few. The grass grows long. The doctor appointment. Your signature. And here. To drill down to this moist moment. Forget about the moment. Breathe more drink less. You’re nearly arrived. That sound in your ears. Can be safely ignored. Stars are stunning. In the other room. A silver fish already knows. The weight of his decision. After tea. Which ones need question marks. And maybe if this season’s colors suit you. Forever and a couple of days. Don’t say it’s nonsense before you read it. The hair clipped just so. Forwards and prefaces were her specialty. And behind the couch. Where the mandolin was stored. A clear or colored gem. Which was built to the specifications. But ultimately

one day maybe we can breathe in this smoke

we waited but no one came so we went back to work which was engaging but your shirtsleeves tended to snag on the machinery which could cause a cascade of failures and then you had to set it all up again but this was fairly rare and at least the terrible coffee was free though in summer you couldn’t help but look out over the green tree tops and long to be a bird catching flies which of course we all said at predetermined times and had a little laugh like a moth escaping a musty closet but in the end but well we’re not there yet we were repeatedly told to keep specific limbs straight and noses somewhere slightly dangerous but you don’t really take these things to heart climbing the ladder though when it rains the special boots made us all feel like we were typing a letter in a dream in which we wove all of our secret thoughts but woke before we could mail it and so another year began

How many weeks have I wished away for what? A few steps closer to saving Zelda the weekend blur and mid-range scotch laughing at a show that ended decades ago on my fourth run through and what, should I pine for the tall pines, the crumbling sunset ruins a flight away or look microscopically and find the hidden gem of my days between the legs of hungry mites who live and die in a forest of eyebrows or is rarefied complaining enough to drop another Wednesday into the scrapbook no one reads high on the shelf to be thrown away the instant I am ash

the utter breath of new morning flowers in undiscovered optimism in the left side the word wasting a pain keeping up with the right twilight with astral orchestrations the forced merriment continues too many pains in the fan noise creak moon glow of the painting of Jesus and his personal trainer on the final rep my heart in my thumbs swiping sweating 39th floor cool breeze black bug holding on out in the sky propping this mood up with some part of a whale

failed conjugations chafe crumbling stone typing with one finger the rain slowing blossoms outside inside blossoms rocks in the chest maybe black coffee offices crumbling in the grey sea o western wind this flower breaks a mountain of glass and steel my words of praise and broken teeth

And this right now sure no one told you or even made a joke how were you to know that it would crumble in your hand as you woke and made another attempt to gather supplies for the journey from reluctant and somewhat distant relatives who all day would sit by their fires and wait for her to arrive and read once more from the voluminous pamphlet that detailed the triumphs of an ever-increasing number whose names were lost

How to get it flowing again? I tried to ask my neighbor but he was on his way to prison and couldn’t help. Later, no one showed up to the game despite a lack of bombardment. You start to feel like you can’t even rely on your own fingernails. And these scars don’t even get me a small discount.

As if you found a penguin on your balcony in the middle of summer but before you could open your mouth it’s swept away by a hawk. All the same, the vegetable patch managed to wither again this year, much like

When I can’t remember how to spell a word I make a small, approximate scribble and hope I’ll never have to go back. Anyway, by the time anyone checks we should be long gone.

while the computer is updating I dare to go outside where I am immediately swarmed by a cloud of cicada who clumsily ram into me causing many small bruises and the neighborhood cats gather to investigate the mounds of insects at my feet who have collapsed from exhaustion and finding it all boring the cats wander off to practice their Latin which ensures that they will be in a terrible mood at least until dinner time