Three times the blue 

naked gentle spread-legged 

wonderland alpha bollocks 

carotid debt-collector erotic 

flummoxed glisten hallowed 

ichthyologist jimson knife 

listen: I see a swelter I see a 

unitarian haircut in stained 

glass (lamentation blue) I see 

David’s inflected forms queer 

against backdrop of prismatic 

night sky I hope we don’t die 

tonight: I hope I hope I hope 

Palomino on guillotine 

I listen with the sound on 

trying to make out the last arcane word

kiosk whispers more logorrhea

sealed in a tomb but really 

a vision of hardboiled masochism 

as machinelike as a birdcall

I am wearing the same threadbare 

riding chaps I wore when I met you 

on the foot of the stairs leading 

toward the rooftop garden 

I promise not to take revenge on myself 

when you’re not around 

I won’t say anything sinful or heterodox 

like birds are really tiny airplanes in dreams 

I have one minute to make a short 

film about love: I miss your teeth and 

the bite marks they leave on 

the flesh of my flesh the sound your 

diaphragm makes when your sobriquet 

is weathervane your general air of 

jubilance at the sight of rain clouds on 

the horizon of expectation 

sun gathers in pools of rainwater 

(usually a swamp or shallow lake) these 

are the places where vanishing developed 

it’s incongruous wings where eyes 

that can see the ghost-image of phantom 

limbs are still considered sacred