and I could not touch it

My head was still spinning from 
the champagne mixed with the gin. 

There were sparklers and at that moment
the alcohol reached my elbows.  

All I wanted was to sit on a long subway ride
and read a book at 3 am, 
          the light still popping
          from a thin piece of strong wire.


Leaving is not what scares me but the fact 
we have a fridge filled with jars of things. 

The subway had stalled beneath the water,
we were bending bark some moments ago. 

And so we left to build forests.

I climbed a tree to see the world:
Below I gaze into memories of
the river current that met the 
ocean current in a corner nobody 
I know has ever been or will 
ever mostly go. 

And how do I tell people?

          I haven’t written in enough time

          the words are straight forward

          I had lost my words.


The books I read are everywhere. 
There is the American man in Saudia Arabia
hunting wolves. There were the two brothers 
from India, in Cambridge, and a gypsy from 
Czechoslovakia. A tech company in California. 
The woman hiking alone, a few states over.

The poems begin after, pouring out on a screen 
I couldn’t recall what I wanted to speak. 
They were gone like calluses on a musician’s 
fingers who lost his taste. 

It had happened just in time for us to 
drive over the bridge where we crossed a 
state border, which made all the difference.

          And I had almost called to tell you, 
          and I had almost yelled to turn around.


The way you make coffee is important. 
The way you stare with your hands is 
studied like most art: it is symbols. 
The cold weather took my breath after 
five minutes outside and was a lesson 
in invincibility. We stay hopeful. 

do not break freely.


It had been a walk at two in the afternoon
when you can feel the sun already wanting to set. 
The coldness was damp and the light muted like 
a trumpet being played in private.

Perhaps we see the city through one large piece of frosted glass. 
I cannot quite see in, so I am unsure which way is east.
A beautiful chaos, something was always different.

     But I could not name it.
     And I could not touch it.

to live:

everything has changed, nothing has changed