January 15th, 2015


Faust Arp, Radiohead, 2007

All the cups are collecting and all the Kombucha bottles
too and there is a colony of air inside these glass houses.

I have been lying here for as long as I can remember.
I have been thinking about what to think about.

What I mean is I went to the gym, but mostly I looked
in the mirror and watched my lips as I moved.

It was erotic and strange and everyone was uncomfortable.

The room is thin now that we've turned down the heat. 
My fingers are cold when they wander from under the covers.

I wake up at 3:30 to remember to drink water and sometimes
it is just when the crescent moon is peering in my window.

I have the feeling of being watched. The strange light falls
on the dead flowers on the desk I use only to store envelope

after envelope of words that won't matter when I'm dead.

I have curled myself sideways in the bathtub of tepid water
and have bruised my knees.

I have built tiny igloos of light in backyards of my memory,
the nylon and cotton of my snowsuit a second skin.

I brush my hair for the first time in 100 years
and it crackles with every stroke.

The night is almost long enough to touch every small animal.