corner cursing



my house breathes in quiet as if it were a scent

blinks at the brightness of silence

(a bulb with too high wattage)

& questions

my unfiltered intents.



the only poems i write lately

that are not poems about you

are the poems i write

 about the poems i write

which makes them	indirectly

poems about you anyway	

& the whole thing just spins me

cycling back to the start.



so heres come the part

where we move on past the verbiage

where i say that you melt me

yes here comes the part

where my feelings uncross their legs

for that utopian nopanty shot	

& beckon 

as you maintain your position

at the edge of my life

imploring me to stay when i’m near yet

rarely bothering to get me there		

i’ll be in the corner cursing timing–



you see, i could easily be done with this

if only i could begin.