lost the game


We ran up in three dimensions; the two of you first and falling behind my fear, behind the sky; at the top he coughed up blood, got high in the backyard, fits of rage about a bear movie or some combination of a visitors’ center or burned to the ground; try rubbings. No heritage there but they were proud of me; they bought me anything I wanted as we awoke again and again in layers. I still wake that way remembering dust around his teenage body, different sun, held bladders through explanation canyons, resentments and peacock restaurants where I would hate the light until later, drunk on altitudes of bones.


bloodsucking anatomy
and squeezes the pleasure
out of it
from whole countries
of enablers
we frame stuff
have lost the parse
how-to, and how


Bill said...

You should really host that pic yourself. Stealing my bandwidth isn't cool.

bender said...

You're right.