one last gulp of solitude
the way that she haunted you
the heartbeats that always discover your eyes
the way that the moments will shatter but never surrender the light
the fallen cascading abandon the hopelessness anguish the light in your door
the air when the catacombs open the starlight expiring your ships on the shore
so much we could learn from this, a textbook of self-reassembling bliss
but all we ever come back here with is new theories of how we know
 
the first paths are hidden now
like the scars from a hologram
when all that you need is a way to be cold
the icicles beckon and spear you and dancing can render you whole
the falling abandoned relentlessly filling the space where you hoarded our fees
the dust when the reservoirs empty the sunsets receding your hand on the key
so much we could treasure in this, a wonderland of self-replenishing wish
but all we ever come back here with is new theories of how we know
 
I knew you would say this
but I never could write the right bridge for this precipice
the heart's beat will always elicit our rhythms and anguish and shields against oars
the way that each moment transpires without taking places we know from our wars
the fallen relentless recurrence will edit us out of the treaties we sold
the songs of the way we conceal love in intricate clauses like wires through gold
so much we are mirrored in this, a logic of why this should end with a kiss
but all we ever pull back from it with is new theories of how we know
 
 
[Sketched with fingertips during a retreat from too many ideas, then restlessly re-infected until there were too many ideas in it again.]