I would fall upon 236 gravestones before I found a name to suit the loneliness of the air. Wet and clinging to my brow, gray drapes across the windowed sky. I can't keep words like this, one across another, running into stolen pages.
            Now, I am only fascinated by shoes. Covered in mud after late night walks in the hopes of meeting oneself on the empty street. For always. For you, we walk into dusk and drown in drifted skies. The air manages to be so heavy in our chests. Our chests full to the brim with granite hearts. 

Interpreter

If I could knit
the stars in your eyes
into confusion,
thick and thought-
out, songs would drip
down the half-open
window like glass
shrieking upon glass.
The concrete puddled
in borderline peace,
dry and forgiving.
There's never been
a way to fall
without opening
a space behind you.
Catch electrons between
atomic measurement,
stand hand-in-hand-in-
half-drawn words. 

I leave my shoes upon your doorstep and cradle your sleep in my arms.

an early instance
of repeat—
beloved Rachel.

shorter than
the prophet of
naturally expressed


movement in six—



bars

only one
without
title

yet it contains some.

(blackout from The Pianoforte Sonata)