dim.

beautiful things
that dim
the only way that things can become
like arms dropping to one’s sides
after an embrace,
cold settled wax
and worn blankets
and birds that have sung themselves
to sleep.

cat, comma

cat, comma

you have been a comma.
what i thought you were
you were not,
still four small windows
someone else’s black cat is lonely
i alone in a darkness
that allows me to see the book shelves.
before i was a lover
having conversations on our elbows
they grew pink and i showed us.
later i will be important
and read from my works
or sing them
and you are the comma
between those things
but something else
i thought you were.


2006.
(photo taken by Dark)