Poetry

When the ache was just too much, I’d skip
down the hill to the slip where you
and a small boat were always waiting.

That day the boys
took us quickly.
They took us calmly.

That summer night, we gathered again around the table,
drinking with all the bugs that lit up and some that didn’t.
When Mike said: I wonder how my ex-wife is doing

Watch him flip
them the bird
after the ball

I am born. I dream the nightroom of your body,
and in that place, you sing, build me of words

Time passes
into the limbs of the boys
on the field stretching

I am not yet dead. Do not call this miracle or raise your hands in praise. First, 
you should know how long I prayed, and how I came to know the silence of the Lord.

He was in a poem once, alive 
at the beginning, dead by the middle, 
haunting me at the end.

Beaucoup de musique de Miley on the air—
As one may imagine, there is a Rihanna button, and it is
what you push when you enter the control room, and

Now when I get personal
I have only one thing to say
(a dead gay once told me,