two

The Slipping Method

There is not in you yet
This listless shadow
But bright chaotic comfort.

Though streams overfill
A darkening warmth
Your black hair on the pillow.

The things you leave
Never leave you.
It was a happy month.

What foresight fills with foreboding, love?
The awkward slumber of trains.
When the ice storm

Snow mobiles the streets
I imagine I could have children,
Dangerously.

Regrets I did not become someone else.
Regrets the ice on the walk.

Because it is better to disappear

Because it is better to disappear
Than to be loved.
The black pigeon
With its hanging wing
On the cornice.
Because we break
Against the day slowly,
Then quickly, and then not at all.
To find respite in the yellow day,
The days, the days.

And that it is better to disappear
Than to be loved.
(All day my fly unzipped.)
We do not believe it until we know it.
The dark day,
Days, days.
Pigeon on the cornice
To be loved
Because we break
Against the day.