Tagged: the Heart

7-10

I run more when I’m single. I         dig holes in my skin
as if something might pupate         & emerge
I would like to be         more inwardly motivated
so my heart won’t come out black         in a rocky bed
I’m consumed by         how much
it doesn’t hurt. Does that mean it hurts?

After Seeing My Ex // on Tinder

swiping left in child’s pose
as if i didn’t do it

as if to say
no, let me help you

a phone covered in milk
i jumped in a new life

and forgot it
i couldn’t find happiness

when it was in my hand
i couldn’t leave the house

//

i think of you alone there
with my choices

repeating themselves
like children

white cells
the haunt of bodies

moving you from room
to room, where once

we passed through 
inside each other

walked through hallways
of pictures of organs

murmurs following
us with eyes, and we felt

alive, if for a moment
before

the moment
had always been there

Rule 34

how much
of the internet
have I’ve seen?

how many thoughts
& friends now side
with my ex?

how many places
will I bed, like
a predator?

we are affiliated, &
would not be
elsewhere, we say

we repeat ourselves, tracked
by those who remind us what
a person is mainly

the few lines
we know
spaced out

repair based on items
cried most often
a little spine, a little

eaten by wolves, not
simply followed, the bones
made powder by morning

hounds asking, even
when satisfied
what else is there?

Inheritance

&
here I thought
that was all

an apple a day
if i survive it

cross
like a grapefruit
between
two things

neither of which
i can remember
neither is grape

neither is me
it’s not
as simple as

putting two plants
together, even
in the right conditions

some
just don’t
make anything

What if Bugs Bunny Were Bugs Instead of a Bunny

I think of replacing myself
with bugs
fumbling over themselves
heaving
grabbing skin, grain
absorbed
or otherwise freed
like other, smaller
bugs. you would like it if
I had been
now that I am
but I wasn’t
a spider hurls its heart
into its legs
blood hits the wall
and goes up it
like a roach. there is no
naturally occurring
instance of me
in the leaf litter
in the rot
I descend carrots
I say what is up. I
tape your heart

Its Parallel Existence

Formerly of love appears
on grainy 90s television
She takes down my shorts by the pool
Her mouth is full of ice, if I remember, or
I tried to run

I remember my first kiss. I wiped it away
I remember I peed on a girl’s foot in line
to the diving board. If I saw her today, I’d maintain

it was dripping water, formerly
of ice, that it was unseasonably cold that day
not too cold

               Snow untwisted from the curtain
Duck, dinosaur, contagion fused together
We had to get out of the pool
There is no end, it seems, to these
lines that never touch

Infinite Divisibility

maybe we adopt
a highway first
pluck the hairs off its back
spray poison
on the cans as folks
drive dead
down the middle of us
ignoring signs
of what to ask, when
& how come
our trash bags, our rival
lemonade stands
freshly squeezed
piles of request
husks of yellow wanting
shimmering in the sun
ants lubricated. is there
a little bit of juice left
in everything?
like a theory of things
cut in half forever. like
half of us is still here
in each of us, even
if we can’t see it
even if we hate each other
seeing us like this
the objects, the objective
literally broken
a man pulls over
& asks for a glass of milk
we both feel bad
for not having any
we give directions, but
neither of us has been
past this point
the grass unkempt
& green on either side
hiding the mile markers
at the number of times
I have had sex with you
& you have had sex
with me