Improv III

soul in its set; you see, it's done with speed
this is the tearing, your
cyberspill gush of long-distance
love

between the lies are
things i haven't told you. there is
enough of these to say

we aren't working.

been listening to modest mouse
all day.
"we were dead before
the ship even sank".

i saw this two months ago,
i have been patient, penitent and
persistent
in hanging on for the sake
of you, of propping you up
while you worked

to finish more
important things than me. you'll
say you would do

anything for me. you said it
this morning and oh, i

would too.

i just can't

love you.

love you more than
less than this.

it's time for us
to build nothing
out of something.

it is time
for sleepwalking for

things to be said.


for separation, for so long. but still his face assaults
it might dice your heart
a little, to hear me
say that when you called
on Saturday night i
could only go through the motions.

i get in a crackhabit of boys.

and even when i know
it's time to let go,
i don't let go.
because they
tell me to stay.


her legs...i have not always lived like this
i felt her
heartbeating
under my palm

i felt my edges
blur, slip hotly
down my legs

radiating from
my ears when
she pulled my hair.

the fat men
watched, too
drunk to take

pictures.


he had to have his way. as down
i spun into
being for him the
things he needed me
to be for him.

i have always done this,
lived for

a wrap around them, too
slippery
for anything

but me to hold on.


openly, as though we two held equal shares
for a while. now
shut, i cannot
be myself to you.

i am in the process
of recovering my

peaces.