kingsoftrain

He cried forever. And I was sad.

Is there music
in the house

No one is smart near a dying kid

Ah, ghost, original 
addict
have I been
re-paradised
oh 

that a body

could leave itself 
to eat 
and come
back private

a fire the size
of an egg
or an angel's
mouth
begins
in god
as set
by a mirror
reasonably
erasing
its insides

An arsonist's muted lightning. A crow without warning. An egg full of paint. All of my obsessions in one silent place. Spell mother: the mirror predicts my double's future. Each kid dies differently.

I can’t think I’ll know you from seeing you in a room. My eyes eat their own longing. Touch has starved every spider my hand’s become. Cain, Abel, cannibal. Ohio I tilt the blood balloon of my hearing over a swooning raccoon. Hop into my brother. Not when I’m dying.  

Jesus wakes up with a stomachache and all his guy friends laugh. Birth has three dreams about a door. I was so small as an infant I had to wear doll clothes. The size of your child changes bombs.

A deer eats three cigarettes and god has to deal with that erection.

This poem will mention god because I caught fish with people who are dead now.

I am naked in front of pictures that tell me boredom has many rooms.
My mother and my father are singing in a church that can’t sing.

I like to think of Jesus asleep on a crucifix in a missing wasp nest.
I like to think that because it puts that dude to sleep.

Circles from a childhood gun on my toy forehead…

You can’t drink on the moon.

Our eating hangs in the house of god.

Can touch
touch itself
to sleep?

No dog
is sick
in a dying
mirror. I age but fail

to pass
my son.

i.

left a hole
in a star
went back
to get it
a stiff
baby
was handed
to my mother

ii.

a dollhouse
you can go
online
to bomb

the dog
in its yard
too ashamed
to dig

I wanted to be a woman who owned only a swimsuit

Stones
eat
for so long
nothing