Unkempt flower beds and roaches on a vined-covered wall

whether it is we sleep, dream, and collide with desire with sickening, wet thuds,
or whether, in shorter moments, less precise, less pressing, less puerile,
we see those things which seem where they should be.

if, by some chance, you, or one of your friend’s hands,
came to divine those somnambulist’s pleasures,
please remember to drop some postcards about it-
as you walk away-

yet i will wander
like bullets with no powder
into, and out of, languid, grabbing fields

and perhaps my greatest hope,
as i am torn down by gripping shrubbery,
is that you understood what i meant when i just couldn’t do it.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s