i like it best when you tell me once, softly


I would tend to you so carefully if you would let me


when we are together, I know you

on an iceberg
on a land fill
in a canola field
i will know you

kept comin around to see if you were there

baby, i know your tired


inside the volar portex — how does a mouth know how to make a sound?

scratchy teeth behind the lips
shield the tongue from tasting
align the face to feel it’s home
and keep the words from racing

a little shrapnel of the atmosphere gets swallowed up when you blink. however, a certain love will always stay around these parts. a fussy broken wisp of an air of love. stored in a kimchee pot, or folded — compressed between winter quilts.

it will remain a warm, sweet love, even inside the vermillion room: even when a little indelible whisper lands and says to you, hello, you know I know the raft has holes.

having departed from the platform, her slip became revealed by the wind. the air was warm.