January 11

It was so hard to sleep, something was wrong ~ a window let out water yet a pooling ~ what made the room wet was under discussion: a drain to anxiety stopper ~ to sink overflow while a garment left untended; we are calling it an accident ~ how much can seep through a surface broken ~ the path of least resistance, we come to learn, when lines form, holes or white noise, our voices are interruptions ~ to diminish the damage towels dropped before detection ~ too late to utter an explanation of any coherence ~ I want to disappear like a boat ~ sorrow, sorrow, sorrow ~ don’t worry so much, she said ~ don’t worry.


January 16

I remember living in the present for a time, recording advances as I drew them ~ when we talked till missing the last train seemed possibly ~ the greatest danger or, an opportunity ~ to begin but then waiting was everything and learning to write about a heart irregularly ~ any of the stops in an organ, what one can hold in a palm: a chapbook, the dog’s paw ~ I wanted you ~ to try walking in the dark reaching ~ for someone only, whom to hold ~ it’s good to train oneself to touch so it’s easier when you need it: smashed ~ I mark this date of loss, mid-January.