the branches are many
and the roots run deep
it’s easy to feel like you failed

the toss of a penny
gone not quite so steep
and anarchy would have prevailed

cross the room correctly and
the path emerges

to stare is one thing,
conducting it to harmonious rest
is quite another

neither the internal logic of the art
nor the strange world of its rules
could stop my brutal feet

everything that’s cold and good
and taught in school
falls away

yes

another day in NYC
walking over bridges and dreaming of money
and love for days. i bring my good mask
for indoor time
and i circle the loveliest
body of water i can find
to find an overlook
on which to do it

figures and noise
and a tide pulled
in recognition
suit me fine

i see the dance all at once
a nourishing shimmer
over time

in bleed water bay
and in love,
in america,
waiting for the sun
to grow. till then
money saves you

they eventually fall
the other things i mean
to the various silences in which i waltz
come, spin
delicious
wins

perspective is
among other things
a series of lines

the fields i occupy
agree
they present a face
a kind of time sensitive
message sent to me

poured into the shoes of a believer
the mild sinner
will wait out the panting animal

and bark into a smith
if it keeps the blues away
for good

helpless against the terrible beauty of the world

the things we miss own us
in a way the things we lost
never will