I learned to raise my pain like god
raises lightning, disappearing as soon as it opens the sky

I let it haunt me, as I let most things. Every time I leave
a city I tell myself to become new again:
Joy is my mother holding her American dollar
America falling     around her like a voice     that has never once prayed
I have decided I no longer care where it is
I came from. I let myself fear death only
to remember my body. I think language is a gun with no bullets in sight, just the blow,
the mouth belonging to nothing but ends. And I know
where this road turns, I will follow it like a fire
on a hill of pale
grass.
I am always watching the door for my body, the room defeated
with silence
dust wind against the gentle wind, you fly towards me, pull me to the ground and we kiss--
Are we not an extension
of the shoulders on this earth we’ve crashed into?
Who are we if we can’t at least give each other this. At least
the distance between a sentence and the eyes avoiding it— Everything is dark
except for the wound, you can see how lovely
it glows; right there, I am free except for the moment where I chose to forget
you. Like an arrow, you are both a killer and a bird,
I tell myself this before it's over.