I feel as if I‘ve been moving
For a year, trudging boxes sewn
Both empty and flooding. I hoped to
thread the black hole with no strings attached.
Tennessee said men like you get
A wolfish look in their starved eye.
I sneak some good in the reflection
Of those wearing sunglasses at night.
Peeking up skirts on bicycle seats,
As children they warned us that
Our faces would get stuck like that.
Sex is the training wheel still pedaled.
I don’t know why I keep my nose
in the dead dirt just because I
stepped on a rake once trying to smell
the infinite fields of sunflower.
- A selection from Deathbeds, May 5th, 2007
