I hugged myself
and it changed my aerodynamics.
I began spinning out of control.

I like it when I’m looking
At a woman’s wrists
I like it when a woman likes to look at my wrists

I was the poolboy but it was billiards
I got up on the table with a feather duster
and did a little dance like the honeybee

there’s only one season under capitalism
spring

The war is over.
The builders come:
they build doors with archways; the ceilings are high

A steep cemetery of a smile,
the last century—what a century!

Just its fur was moving.
With a snare, they lifted it
and sealed it in a garbage bag.

I want to take
responsibility, to say I made it hard—
I only made it hard for him specifically.

A toenail clipping floating in a toilet bowl
like a crescent moon reflected in water