two mornings

a day could have two mornings.

one

in which

i open beside you

another

where i wake,

brave enough to talk.

my breath is not too anything to be petty.

there is not enough day

to unlove

my puppeteer hands.

also to say that i have been

your flesh at every age;

a liar to you

ocean act

oh the every heavy thing

that becomes, with a million others

myself, my father, my many mothers

they told me light

would be flashlight suns

on the sides of any city i wanted

to be.

but the beginning comes to me in running,

bodied waters,

when i thought a god

could be

so many seperate thieves

a story about how you are not a city

you are not a tower

or city.

cities do not build

walls like men do.

they do not flower

against fighting flower.

they are un-armed.

you are not a city

because cities do not hide.

and cities speak like

towers tower, so

you cannot be them.

all your ground does not make you a city.

and towers,

towers do not defend themselves

against the seasons,

or cities,

or mountains,

or me.

adam

I was born

a stone.

As if love,

out of dust,

could grow

sunday

we are free

we aren't

bearings

make me a place where widows come to rest

their calloused feet, beaten by summer granite

and cheap sandals.

a place whose story-telling walls

speak sleep to tired orphans.

make me a house without curtains,

with open rooms,

and life will be plenty.

let the doorlessness that i am be my new body:

a light that exists between

patches of dry grass.

house

if you don't build me a house,

i will throw a fit in my grave.

i will talk to stones.

i will tell the cities "He is not here"

and the streets "He will not come"

i will lie.

and i will sleep.

but you would not move if I told you to,

you do not reply in sound

it is because i am a coward light creature

a half way lover

i believe in seasons.

and if you built me a house,

you know,

that i would only keep my sleep there.

and i would be sorry some days.

so you love me enough

to leave me in dirt

i slept thinking:

"dont leave me like you do most times."

the breathing in and out of everyone

the uncertainties of all my kissed up mind

even summer winds

unfortunate familiarity with a thin sheet boy smile

pet words

sweetness on the roof of my unclean mouth

sleepy legs

tangles in my hair