poems

29 September 2015

It is raining here for the first time in weeks.
After posting nothing for over a month I worry I'm going to start posting too often.
God forbid I 'give myself away.'

from 'Opfer,' Rilke

O wie bl├╝ht mein Leib aus jeder Ader
duftender, seitdem ich dich erkenn;
sieh, ich gehe schlanker und gerader,
und du wartest nur — : wer bist du denn?

28 September 2015

receipt

"this was not planned,"
you write below your error.
neither are the good parts. so. it
may be okay. i may come find you.
been writing these things with no ends
which may be like not finishing any songs
or may just be stubbornness
or nerves, not knowing how much
it matters, or may be,
probably is, something else entirely
i.e. something new i.e. something
that's never crossed my mind til now

i.e. a beginning
i.e. every time we contact from now
on i am going to record as
a beginning