Share this Concrete Perch (for Tiffany Brazil)

Through a void of quantum flux

they came, the waves,

feeding grit in thin cold breaths.

We would be washed in luster without the great exhale and yet they cross the void

and cross the leaves

and cast a hound’s-tooth shadow.

Lie just on your lacerations

let my saliva soak in.

Lay on shards of trees and slice the joints,

five points waiting .

Down your aspirations and lie wasted, with me, sloppy, on me

Close your scabs with fire, water cleansing but.

We can’t hold these river banks, they constrain us, teach us how to climb

this pumice ledge and mark the early dive bomb, car bomb, liquor dropped and bitter.

All that wonder? All that failed hope and jaw dropped anticipation, let the monsoon take it.

All that heat, from burning hardwood? Keep it, cool it; just leave my trestle desk on all fours bent and ready to receive.

Let my midday rot like wrenched out wisdom and have the thunder spray it down

And when it’s down, spruce my evening books,

stacked on face ,

on edge,

magenta

to cyan

to peach, floors scorched clean.

But OK is just a state of “wish for something better and regret the next day” and why hold your aggravation. Because it keeps you warm in winter dawns.

But god, these mountains rise, and pillows sit on every crest, but never come to bring fresh air and wet when midday flesh clings to your breast.  

You know these points traversed the great expanse to reach us. And these fractal shadows represent a choice, forced by circumstance.

But those 8 minutes … were a life time … of gorgeous hesitation.