“i’ll probably never leave. is this strange? yes, wonderful and strange. the blades of the pasture stopped in the sun have had all the life cooked out of them by the drought–all the hope, the strength to grow, to suffer–and now”

i cannot wake up
so i can; drink
coffee until i can’t
see and burn
incense until i am

i wake up so
i cannot; drink
caffeine until my eyes
are turned to lakes
and engulf your body inside
my senses. is this
senseless, is this
incensing, to want
your round hip under
my flat hand?
a mirror pond,
eyes in the center
of glassy palms,
light not
necessary for all
pursuits of perception.
in absence
of sight, we
touch. in absence
of touch, we
shrivel like Fall
leaf and vibrate in
the coming freeze
and hold on even
though this grip is
what furthers our

i cannot
wake up for if
i do i
know she will be
gone, he will be
gone, i will be
gone, and this
chattering fear is
the same that we all
share in; leaving
the comfort of our
womb, Life
both our
only Path
to waking up and
the source of our
eternal terror.

i wake up so
i cannot
imagine my mother
alone on a boat; there
is no alone. i
wake up so i
cannot talk
to my dead father
and seal
my mouth like
a tomb to my living
sister; there
is no life and
there is not any
death. a mouth
needn’t open for
a tongue to
twitch and
words require no
utterance for
language to peel us
to our glowing bones.

the sun has been
up for hours,
i have been
a son for
my entire life.
it is in mourning
that i submit to
the indoctrination of
my sexuality, all
the love i have
been disallowed
from expressing. i
cannot wake up
so i can meet
the female in
my mirror with
sharpened teeth and
i cannot ever sleep
so that i won’t
wake to the hollow
hallway of a
half-way heart.

caffeine nudges me,
“more, a little
more”. the sun
ignores me, “burn
but grow, green
but yes also all
the rest”. the mind
twitches and rolls,
the ocean
does the same.

i’ve not woken
up but my bed is
near empty.

Published by Zak

an intertidal island in an ocean of impermanence.

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