i wake up with feathers in my mouth and a halo caught
around my thigh. looking for truth in the long cylinder
of the last cigarette in the pack the way i seek the lotus
in the mud. i build a structure fire in my heart, which
diminishes to a flickering lamp, so beautiful in its dim
blues and greens. i do sharp violence to my emerging
ribs and you help me cut away the skin with a narwhal’s
tusk. so this is what lightness feels like. there is
a trick to getting lost, to slipping through the cracks
in the macadam and re-emerging next season as a budding
sapling with limbs of disillusionment. you had forgotten
that life still courses forward but does not circulate
like blood, although it may sometimes seem that way.
if i’ve taught you nothing i’ve shown you how to cry
like a man. surrender your living room couch and your
television to me and and the angels will forgive us.