20 January, 2016

Some Things Only Happen in Spring

How about that
exhausted glow of unremarkable love

red-rosed sonnets,
That sort of thing

Romance is such sweet manipulation
Affliction not to be trifled with
while I can’t stop thinking about death

Syrups, glowing,
clogging up
Hold still please

Give me your regional dialects
You all smell like sugar
Even when I don’t need you

17 January, 2016

To My Five Year-old Son for his Birthday

Curious, stupid
and always
queasy from love

Every day
Not all day

I remain petrified
One thousand
Eight hundred
Twenty five

I am not immortal
You are not

There is no terror more pleasing
than the sound of your laugh

Every day
All day