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I'm taking photographs.
I'm trying to understand (you).
& every little piece
every hammer of the shutter,
the dialated lens,
must allow for
The instant
to flourish.
Or the instant is blind.
Blinded black,
silence coming up for air
from the emulsion.
But I'm starting to see
It's more about light
than reason.
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I've loved it all, I really did. So much that there is little else left of me.
I'm ready for the overflow. I'm tired of the waiting.
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 I felt the balls of his feet
pushing off against the sand.
The water parting silk.
gravity & pressure & weightlessness.
Tightened throat, twisted lungs,
A waterline beyond vision.
& no reprieve,
No relief.
Stuck on repeat.
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"September."
Some sleeping voice,
a cold drip along the walls where miracles sleep.
An underwater voice.
& Words,
mouth-gaping,
stare,
With all their long-dead authors
Humming discontent.
The sound of blood
beating its way
through eardrums & indolent veins.
Of clouds & car alarms
Dimmed
into nothing but
a pulse.
The water moves,
Parts around
My vacant gasp.
The breath itself
A foreign thing.
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"Lonely little love dog that
No one knows the name of.
I know why you cry out,
Desperate & devout.
Timid little teether,
Your eyes set on the ether.
Your moon in a bella luna &
Howling hallelujah.
Nameless you, above me,
Come lay me low & love me,
This lonely little love dog
That no one knows the name of.
Curse me out in free verse,
Wrap me up & reverse this.
Patience is a virtue,
Until it's silence burns you.
& something slow has
Started in me, as
Shameless as an ocean,
Mirrored in devotion.
Something slow has
Sparked up in me.
A dog cries for a master,
Sparks are whirling faster.
Lonely little love dog that
No one knows the ways of.
Where the land is low is
Where the bones'll show through.
Lonely little love dog that
No one knows the days of.
Where the land is low is
Where the water flows to,
& holds you..."
[Can't write. & that is what alone means.]
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