my friend you know
soldiers discriminate
on where they’ll feel regret
but I regret I’ve always gone too far
and never far enough
so I look at your picture from time to time
when I’m not one for sentiment
and wish that I had just been still
to know you
when you were mine to know
and that I could have been this me
that I am now
but then I never would have known
how far it was
that someone else could go
for me
if I had been this me
and sometimes when we don’t go
quite far enough
that’s the furthest we can go
and the greatest thing that we can give
and I wouldn’t have known
that I could go that far
if I didn’t do that for you
when I didn’t go far enough

you were never mine to miss
but I miss you
like tobacco and wine
and everything that reminds me
of the infinite space
between earth and sky
and we find each other
every time
even if the silence doesn’t break
this time
but breaks me just a little
with what I cannot have
but leaves me raging hard for joy
like Morse Code or semaphore
made of a life
to tell you
you are loved

Shnurov is hoarding cat food
and last night I dreamed
a vampire
and how the library
at Alexandria really burned
did you see it too
imagine that kinda guilt
but everyone is dreaming wildly
so why should I be any different
when I am like this
all the time
and I’m getting claustrophobic
I think it’s a conspiracy of pet hair
that’s trying to choke me out
and I should have requested
a Dyson
the last time I had anyone to ask
for birthday gifts
but at least I have a dog
and not a cat
and it knows to shit outside

Domovoi is raging
but I’ve got a mind like a taranta
and all this chaos
is birthing something
in ever escalating spirals
until it winds itself to ashes
and then ignites again
but a girl can’t have a stable house
when she lives on
chicken legs
and yet there’s so much fire
to keep an old god warm

we always think that we’ll have time
until we have nothing but time
to wait for the next time

remember the last time
one more time

this time
in time
out of time
no time

one time

another time
and I have only now

I don’t know much about love
but I want to read you stories
about moonlight and bullets
and rainfalls that comfort
and sunshine that stings

and take long walks
with each of the thoughts
inside your head

and build alters and monuments
and idols
for each of the journeys your heart
has made

transform this flesh
into a sacred place
where all the people
you are
will be
have ever been
can meet to tell their tales
of cowardice and bravery
about the teeth of wolves
and the skin of lambs

expand this cage of ribs
so exponentially
you can be all the contradictions
that you were ever born to be

I’ll give new name to those you christened shame