kingsoftrain

I can’t imagine
knowing
my kids
are alive.

Ask the angel of birthmarks
if god
is cruel.

Grief redirects the simulation.

Old
heavens.

no matter
the hurt
I do not
deepen
there is
one ghost
that pretended
to dream
and in
that dream
we ate
so slowly
that we slowly
invented
sleep
god isn’t
here
to know
we’re here

is your body
terrified
you can be
on tv
moaning
in a bug suit
then attend
the big
bug suit
burning
of the year
things were made
by god

Well you can’t eat it now.

It’s not afraid.

It gets passed around and we are told not to be careful with the grief-mask because if we are careful with the grief-mask the grief-mask will know.

It's possible god is real but has no power here.

I cough blood into my blindfold. Paw after a grape. Eat the rolling loss of mom's eye.

-

I see a face in what your face has done

A frog forgets the size it needs to be
for god
to leave
it alone.

Your silver
absence
lives 
on the skin
of white-haired
infants.

They say
over a bomb
good 
bomb.

Wind and hair
grow
in the blood
of loneliness.

You can take
it with you
how well
god held onto
being the oldest 
thing 
we remember.

Sound 
loses only
its past.

Sometimes
there is nothing
sudden.

My mouth thinks a baby
has in my body
turned
to salt.

Don’t have kids
you can save.