hush
and then I am rained
with whys
of us or me
am I still questioning?
faces in mine tell me nothing
but I just build a garden of them around
I loved knowing where to go down those roads. . .
dirt and green living rushing over in whispering dance
but oh these faces are so leading---and I don’t know
you and you and you all are looking, looking,
and I have no answer
only myself furnished with all I have ever believed
a body scarred
scathing wounds left their remarks on me
gashes gained through lapses
and I don’t care what the morning look like through your windows
bottle blues blowing cool and enfolding the night like our voices
I don’t know where you are
(literally, literally, you have no home)
and the only images are of your maybe fingertips pressed to the neck
flickering over each other in the silence
you gave me nothing but an hour to look in
and I am so angry that you didn’t look in my eye
damn I cannot keep the question out of that one
I am so struck that you knew them
they just run around my head so much I forget they are real
so when is this going to happen
like his face past me on the sidewalk, I’m carrying that brick
so when can I start the construction (oh, the site)
are you going to answer?
but now I am talking to panes of glass with blackness breaking
on the other side of my walls in the sky
and I can melt into sleepy
a few times before I sleep you stripe through my drifting
thank you blank (you)
