I tried to make my love letters black
as dry salvia. No match.
The field mouse is philosophic:
awkward boys piss euphemistic into holes.
Do not swim here.
The power plant churn, the green light.
Your thighs so pale my beard
stakes foolish claims.
You can't really throw a knife.
Go on, try.
Her shoes said, love me
like a broken animal.
The river is red with clay
& white at its swinging lap.
In a Cuernavaca market, the flesh hangs
everywhere: pig flesh, wood flesh.
Sadly, there are few old houses
that sit, affordable.
All the photos in a doctor's office
say, learn to be a better patient.
Subterranean Blue Poetry