dear 0,
the edge is not met randomly
you might remember my prayer nonlinearly, the water—
running in the opposite direction from meaning or
planting it like a tree just wondering—
a question becomes a dream with sirens
dear 0,
tonight i heated up a bag of collage material
and titled it how all songs are crazy
you might remember my prayer
for convection
in the bag a dying
(an) outfit coming apart
the girl at the door said tell bank
choir style, circles, of choices
she said cancel, respond, or like devote
i wrote gift, call, ship
exorcise, the fact of lies or
lava games, geyron, the people who
eat airplanes
i said drop the link
and you say there’s no link
i said drop the bag then
the girl at the door said drop the joy
love you facedown
and asteroid
love you headlamp
love you daylight
love you paid
and breakdown
love you broken
dear 0,
sometimes I sleep like idk myself
I wake up needing to learn everything all over again
I sleep like a plank of wood, unmoving and not belonging
sleep like a leaking faucet
sleep like a set of nesting dolls
we grind our teeth at night so you’ll take my jaw in your hand
you said talk, but without enthusiasm or passion
ok i said:
blue sky with cloud in dirt puddle, x
went to see the dead ram with 4 horns, xx
i'm sending you some coordinates
because i already told everyone
meeting you was like finding
the brutal clarity in stage direction
dream, you reaching as i walk
the open thing in marble relief
the heart string hanging by a thread, my charger
dear 0,
the way you wanna know
derailed by gravity, blue collapsing into green
clouds are thumbprints and below the cops kettle a dream of your goodness
derailed but still exalted, dear 0
today I’m very sleep when I’m dead
very vitamin
very angry bird on the inside
you know how several is so seven so cellular
love you slippage
0,
the world used to speak to me in images
and now
my password is written in shit
the broken heart in my recents, easy
today is a triangle with an exclamation point inside
language is broken into money
I write to you chaotically
medium high, just beneath the smoke
I write to you in basic code
dear 0
to move towards you
towards the dream
I go to write one down and it ends in image
before language
paper thin, inscrutable
language circles and a word like rose
falls out, petals, confetti,
one time I was holding a piece of paper to my ear
with your name on it, talking into it
wondering how I was going to delete he evidence of the call
you were saying all this stuff—
a sun shower,
an earthquake
time belonged back to the elements and
the people around were becoming otherwise
I saw your smile in a room but it wasn’t even you
the world used to speak to me in images
someone asked me how to get to phase 2 when I was sitting at the pond in the rain
watching water on water trying to write a poem for baby James
Oh, to enter reality like a boat does the night!
gather quotes on the light
moving pictures and
35% chances
the sky is broken up into patches of rain and non rain
35% slowed music from my youth the tulips drop their petals only she knows
how open my mind is
what if the rain had come first
dream of sledding
a dirt hill and a deep bell
the rusty junk becoming its own surface
she says its never too late to recognize
the clear light, it shoots across
my minds eye as debris
the world used to speak to me in images
There were circles (moving around me)
a huge green ball (on the ground)
dangerous weather
a narrow pass
expired stuff
I was going to have a show somewhere
I wanted to write on the walls
to make something
from a stroke of nothing
can I show you
an unadorned idea?
a horse video
a movie trailer
one promise of negative joy?
one bottle of freedom oil for
shame so evolved?
some people are clear actors in the explanation of benefits
I told the girl at the door that all songs are crazy
she said tell bank
she said cancel, respond, or like look up
I couldn’t get enough
the sky was broken into rain and non rain
dear 0, some people use language with NO WATER
oh to enter reality
like a boat does the night
haunted by the disintegrated tools of early human life
I am practicing for lifetimes beyond this one
for the ones before and after
I wont exchange the practice but
the story on papers in the sun
they peel away like a crepe
like a sheet of dried glue
finally I can see their edges
as if separate from me,
the outfit coming apart
dreams circle a faded plot or
low resolution arrangement
delete doing something for
2 seconds, delete sleek
for 1 silver ball dear 0,
I’m beginning to love doubt
to be buffed and buffering
gestures in my periphery
to make yourself light:
There’s a small town before
The tunnel that you go through
You know you are there
When someone suddenly
Feels light in your arms
It means you are in love,
You are in love with that
I see pigeons the morning
That it all comes to me-
My heart actually isn’t inside
Me, its where they all are
drawing arrows towards
visions disclosed by gravity
some fucked and boomerang,
the edges curling
up from shadow, today,
the shape is dog
upended, independent
a friendly reverence
for death which
hangs like a
paper chain
a v of birds
a banal openness, to the left
all blue
to the right, a little forever
my faith goes
underground and the whole
park is my eye
when you cry just
water no feeling
the zero where
full and empty touch
oh to enter reality
you said it was bare open leg type weather
I said drop the link
you say there’s no link
I said drop the joy then
love you facedown
and asteroid
I know of an airplane
that is the flight path itself
you enter through a hole that looks too small
but it functions also as the airport, the waiting
is incorporated, narrow for time but expansive for space
rows of 5 seats on either side, weird machines
on the airplane I’m bored by everyones shock at life
the evidence of this moment’s brewing
its elongated shape and clearly labelled
historic seed
the world used to speak to me in images
and now
I hang the heavy letters to fold soft in half
mirrored in the sky with a bird
some more fly and I record
for a second and set it
to an image of a violin
rubbed from a
gravestone
I make the link with pencil
and wipe it with my hand
record it in the mirror and
you don’t recognize yourself
but see your father as a child
he is playing in the streets, you can feel
his heart racing, he is out of breath, the time is 2:30 pm
you were born around then you step
out of the mirror and look at your hand
holding the pencil, drawing illegibly but
the intention is wholesome and the smudge
is desire crushed by dread and poised to
fail, you decide you want to fail by my
metric and list the color palette
for your failure In the margin which only
exists in relationship to what is not inside
the margin so today is pink, green, silver, and
red like a red light, a red lit from behind
dear 0,
he used to live day to day but now he’s minute to minute
even second to second, days are enormous, extinct
the dog keeps running back
keeps redrawing herself out of deletion
I could print her on a piece of translucent paper
for the sun to shine through, or
layer it with various
insufficient gestures
a struck match—
build something big around this attempt
quickly, use a mirror to recruit everyone
to behold the tool in pieces like
a cookie would crumble
where zero is empty and full
build something with those
rare earth magnets and words
like ribbon until spoken
dear 0,
the way you want to know is a struck match,
today the color palette is oranges
I draw you a clock with obscure increments,
popsicle stick hands extending beyond the face
decaying arrows pointing towards life vs.
the undead, the slow arrow
of beauty as hesitation, as
the afterimage of silence
