My black shirt accrues
a layer of lost cat hair–
we make a snowman

***

You want to smoke when
the baby’s asleep–tuck doors
and step like heart beats

***

Do you remember
not thinking about yourself
and walking upright

Cold covers our lulls
with quickened fingers–hot noise
quivers underfoot

***

These days I can twirl
air around my breath in order
to arrange your dreams

***

I still remember
how your flowers wounded
the air around us

***

But how delicate
your eyelids unfurl like tart
lavender brushes

***

Rolling on the bed
you bite me when the waves
close over our mouths

Windows blacked out by
overnight snow tap their way
across the white hills

***

There’s something dark and
pagan in that chemical–
juices from red meat

***

Waited where the trees
stain themselves with cold white moss
–immeasurable

The wind is juicy
black blister clouds roll over
tree-tops scratch names there

***

Vines slung across paths
divide the forest into
pauses in my breath

***

Smoking I catch cold
chaos in my throat before
we get eaten up

***

I always knew her
freckled small hands were singing
tongues I dreamed up once

***

Cinders of music
the sentences said something
under their hushed breath

…before the spirit of the God called Field…I am equal to what comes in…I am equal to what flows out…I identify with the worn winter-brown grasses because I step from them and through them…this is my prayer from myself to myself answered by ghost-soaked Earth…owners of cloud and mist…their houses in the hills…their houses in the valleys…their houses in the clouds…our house below the small thunder waterfall…our house twirled over with winter-quiet baroque vines…after fruit and with the dim crawl of love…you with your sky-skin and your dripping bliss…come in me…hey…come to me…hey…may we wander the clinging mists forever…may we wander the clinging mists more often…together…may there be clouds to skim our skins to shrink our misfortune…may storms resuscitate us…hey…can I has the meditation…can I has with us thrift in our drifting filaments can I has constituency in your romance…hey…I am rough equal to what flows out…I am rough equal to having you this way…