never meant

as we talk i can hear what i've said,
presciently- despite your insistence
that i'm just putting words in your mouth-
come to pass. i speak in present you speak in past
or some fantastical future perfect.
the tenses become a wire on the verge of goodbye,
a tincture against the pain of here and now.
open up, a spoonful drains into a sick lemon
with frogs and other potion makers waiting
in boxes on a black laquered shelf.

you say we are not metaphors, just people. i say
i could mine this situation for diamonds you couldn't buy
or rent or dream to be.

but i don't. then i speak of respect, a heirophant's litany
in the rabbi's confessional. that means only
the jokes are truth. here's another one for you:


oh. i forgot how to joy. this joke will be continued
when i get over a false hope tied to a horse's ass.

but i should have more respect than that. i should thank
my lucky stars that what you're calling love is now withheld
due to unplanned interruptions of the master
plan. so, brush this little fly on off the crumbs.
i don't need you hanging out on the anticipaton balcony
waiting for for romeo's confessional. yes yes

what soft love he has , what betrayable snacks in the baking.




so now it's cut and severed, gorgon beheaded.
i did my crying now it's up to you for dying