rain 1

a bird’s nest in my hands.
waters diverted, unclarity, until they reach
and no longer flood,
rather, posed as a question. i always
hold my breath.

around my memory a forest.
daily walks to the house with boarded up windows,
in what should have been silence, but instead,
something twisted and dissonant. i mix up sitting
in the car in front of —’s house, we talk crime and punishment,
with pulling myself out of west virginia in tears,
the feeling of something accomplished, summer arriven.
the short pause as we roll over the hill. sweet moments
away from —. the shadow was heavy and full of rain.
oak and maple green on either side of me for seven
hours of disentangling.
going between aspengroves and sandstone.

june again and i still
see you in places like i see my
brother in everyone.

you would like the quartzite, and you
would like Carson on Celan.
they’re your arms pressed up against the
pebbled crag;
they’re your plea for objectivity, antibiography,
writing against writing.

in — i might speak an unreachable language.
away from the edge.
i am a tree now, i may be severed.

i am aware that my body is blood.
facing rock is facing death. mosquitoes, pouring into rock,
seeping through my pants; in the water.

i am away, but not enough away. the sky blackens unnoticed
after rain. i was looking up at a blue carpet square.

we are surrounded by fern forests and fireflies;
it’s enough excitement to not tell the story in my head,
pretend i was airlifted out of the void onto the bottom of a cliff.

black glass and nascent music. i am sure there are stars behind those.
the earth can keep turning, i no longer mind.

anywhere, a private lesson. soft tones
in the wet summer nighttime, i don’t need to tell you
it’s my favorite. these american summers. the tour, your voice
soft staccato, filling a map. i’m too far.

i’ve broken and entered, sitting in the dark in the back
of the lecture hall. you search. it’s too late now,
of course. i woke up and you were sick.

a shared roof. we break and enter. there’s a man following
you around. i am free spirited. i am a cave.

your pause, the punchline. clear-eyed confusion, glassy
pittsburgh rain. i am laughter, not logic. here: the roof!

blockades ahead of me. my delay. i walk too slowly.
letting it swing.