Unknowable

A brand new poem. For what it's worth.

Unknowable

Here's me with my basalt ruin, my

lost tundra neediness, cast amid

muttered notes fragmenting with love,

urgent with greed, fleeting

with want, curled fetal beneath

one solid theatre tower.

Where are you? Where?

Stopped off at the Sylvia? The Bellwether?

(Ladybugs, ivy, Errol, and heraldry?)

I went and bought a small guitar,

a tiny Ibanez,

to shore myself against the

grief tsunamis to come,

while you, drunk only on the now,

scoured concupiscent inventories

for...