little old hellis this why people like me write poems telling youlittle old hell by MineralAccident
about the dead - old photos with your feelings instead
and muscles on your face smeared back as if that
could help. you think quiet in the back seat -
remember looking off.
some metal tool shed had loved me, mostly.
speaks at this moment to prevent my unwiped
language admitting who could not stop crying
greasy stars mixing with the walls. somehow
those who love add some grief like a shadow
or an oil speck.
a body is unconditional,
moving in circles shouting
they walk as if it could be otherwiseyou should know it’s too late for you. a piece of your streetthey walk as if it could be otherwise by MineralAccident
no one saw - gradually stared long enough, orey-eyed
because someone remembered the stray dog
singing behind the roads.
each vine riding alone on the subway, claws undressing
a purple moon with an unlit cigarette. to be single,
omnify the name you might be looking for
and then dismember that thin film left
surfacing when something in common
will be crumpled in the garbage.
until one day you begin dying
and it never happened.
unsaid between usautumn is more than grains of wood repeating,unsaid between us by MineralAccident
white stone whistling, drops of oil hearing traffic
and vanishing - a stranger who saw someone missing.
wordless is nothing shameful. decide now
if you would let a broken rain gutter stay
where there is no house.
someone’s cigarette on a driveway
saw the world to come.
I try to limit the people I disappointempty movie drifting through wires in the trees,I try to limit the people I disappoint by MineralAccident
and they took turns repeating:
they are small themselves.
splinters behind my eyes -
used a pocketknife without wondering how.
the whole world remembers nothing.