Poetry

In the stillness of a windless day,
trees stand full, and proud, and straight.

He was in a poem once, alive 
at the beginning, dead by the middle, 
haunting me at the end.

Beaucoup de musique de Miley on the air—
As one may imagine, there is a Rihanna button, and it is
what you push when you enter the control room, and

Now when I get personal
I have only one thing to say
(a dead gay once told me,

Don’t dream it’s over you don’t
know what’s it’s like it’s like that
& that’s the way it be near me be near

Seeing again
your
face […]

I am going to disappear in Belmont,
after taking a walk in intermittent rain.
I will vanish one day in Belmont—don’t correct me—

Here’s to 
the innards 
and ubers 

Nobody, my father said, could get so many
scrapes and scratches accidentally:
without them I probably would not have liked it so much.

Requisite dog bark. Far off.
No response.