my brain meets the water
halfway on the beach
my energy bleeds
into the tides’ energy
like two puppies
running towards one another
thirsty for breath
and teeth against teeth

i don’t know how to write anymore
i don’t know how to make time
i can’t stop others presence from turning into a mirror of an absence

to prevent anxiety
i look only at the length of my arm
i forget about the rope in my wake
the past
the names i used to know

i used to let the movement flow through me
now i want to know in advance what form it will take
will i like it
will it like me
will we run towards each other thirsty for a voice
or lose ourselves in fine mist shrouding fluency

what is unknowable sits on my hands
and plays my vocal chords like a mandolin
small and quiet and distorted through foggy respiration

i need poems
i need them to need me
not because of identity or fecundity
but because they form a rhythm in my blood
and a purpose on my tongue
they leave a rope
to the boundary of the forest
where shadows obliterate
in the washed out dark:
forest breath
lichen dew
soil sweat

there is not an exit or a clearing
but a prospect
a place i meet myself
on the beach beyond the bark
distorted and incomplete
an anticipation pulsing with need


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