Driving badly through rain I rolled
the car off a short bank into a fast-moving river.
Years later, having slept beautifully, I woke up
pinned under an extra-redolent cedar tree.
Concentrating, I smoothly phased
through the living wood.
Oh in a sentimental mood for accretive
magnetic thinking I slept in a fragrant room
at a dear friend’s home; awesome piano
playing woke me up. I remembered I
met a thick and bloody river in my dreams
and easily crossed – swimming is easy! Two days
later in real life very sore though. I do fall a good
bit in love every fifteen months. A huge huge
huge ghost tells me everything,
and it’s as fine a form of truth as I can know.
Dear Paul Emily Really
Joy just quietly bloods the wanderer
floating through Europe in the future.
I loved your wedding, oh I extra-loved
the lanky birds of Orlando’s lakes.
A wedding guest told me the chillest
herons go to bed as men and wake up
as women – it’s so true!
Joy shadows and pools alongside
your day, and who notices or
makes something of it? Samer(!),
a friend of a friend in Amman,
is very quietly in love with someone
in London. On a nightly basis,
Samer says goodbye to his friends
and confidently and effortlessly
vanishes completely into the night!
Joy, like a soup, like a bowl of the Dead
Sea, buoys godly you away and leaves you
a path to eye-stingingly good anti-matters.
Joy, you know, is murky like melancholy.
It sleeps under a lake! Some people
get a bunch of guys and go hit it
so they know it can’t come back and
terrify the living and thriving villagers.
Image © tanakawho