C

Until I hold you
And smile, because I no longer
Wander like ulysses, I
Will think of leaving my boat:
sinking down until
The songs of the siryns are lost
To the embrace of heavy waters
And the eyes of the deep,
Which are many and one
which shed and drink the water
Which are glimmers in the darkness,
Drink my memory.
In the tide of far shores
As you travel like erikkson
You may glimpse my bones like dolphins
skipping close to shore
to guide you home.

The velocity of apple skin

Past the point of no return:
Where reflected light forms a blinding ring on the curved slope -
Flecks of white on the skin elongate,
thin, speed toward the blossomed wound.
No escape. Time's stopped...
They'll approach until their universe decays.
Theories differ there, on how:
A slow dissolution into component sugars, or a sudden end - the big crunch -
there are hidden layers of this cosmos,
Underneath... The fleshy star. The galaxy of seed. The core, whose gravity is subtle, too much so to hold even itself against the grasping forces of the soil.

B's a house, to live in,
 but below, above, the capital's got
two (b)
       stories, each apartment keeping all the secrets of its many guests,
who've come and gone with children and with languages,
and above, the roof, on hot nights, saw shared love: neighbors in humidity
while the steam rose to tenement clouds for the seraphim.

A is for academy
where time's compressed
and pickled
canned
if necessary sulfured
but between class hours
teachers dress as cats
and all the rank of students line together,
climb the wall (past a little stand of flowering bramble)
and together watch the girls pass by
from bus to where they go

I've found a page, stuck between one and the next
I can't quite decipher the text
but I think it's my death, as written maybe by Garcia Lorca
perhaps he saw me in a dream, or wrote me there
but if I peel the page I fear
like Alice waking the king
I'll dissolve into the word and float away