couple sticks sticking up

boat rotted away


there is the word sense but turned sideways there is something else
particles of event bounce around
never bore
ensembles after fashion come and go


these hours, that's all they are, weak knees of once upon a time
of before time as i think now about time, who am i kidding
i can't smell time. aroma of halfway, zest of start.
putrefaction stench dissolved in memory of meat:
we romanticize.

our bond unbinds facts from letter stacks
scrambles events into particles of feeling
with no more sense, no less.


it's so easy to get carried away, especially with now, especially with you


the chill is the sense of the passing

                        into coal night
   panic of never-to-shine

                              these hours   short time

splitting itself again
                                   and again


                      a sweater on you
                          is whammy
                      warbling of frogs


elevated train rumbling to sea

                            lively monitors
clove smoke

what is the dog barking at?

a pulse where all shimmers, our pulse
for a few hours   memory of
minutes or years


outside
someone watches
someone takes notes
someone measures