Earth turns its quiet revolution— sky spilled sequins on ink; pale moon a scythe carving paths of silver through forests bathed in wolf’s breath …

I. Midnight: insomnia strikes. Ghosts arise where there are none, and the cat roams his castle, howling nocturnes.

II. What I would give to be …

after Agent Dale Cooper in Twin Peaks

As the wet asphalt of Agent Cooper’s

gelled back hair, Bobby’s motor oil spill of a mane.

James …

the fox hears the rabbit screaming. it is a terrible thing, twist of a knife, portrait of a throat on fire.

what is it like to be god? to be cinder …

at night we gather like all the birds of the wood : we, oil slick : dusk blue electricity effervescent in our throats : we snow dream : exhale moon …

we kissed and sparks set us glowing, our limbs live wires— unpredictable, electric. we burned like July suns, blazed like August campfires, …

bring me June daisies and July heatwaves. let cold water be something for skin to sizzle under instead of shiver at. send sun to summer my skin, moon …

June is a blossoming, a testing of freshly wringed wings. July is cottonwood ethereal one minute, thunderstorm electric the next. Things get hazy in …

is parched ivy stitched to my ribcage. July climbs my clammy back and leaves behind evacuated shells that tug and scratch, crumble, cling, crack …

August smells like sunscreen and ripe peaches, skin stained like regret: indigo rose, all the daisy chains we never made, friendship bracelets we …

I was born on hospital sheets on Jackson Street between two bends in the Brazos. I don’t remember what

I first saw beyond crimson estuary that …

I wonder what it is— the sorbet colors of sunsets, dawn’s warm cheek on her surface, her vastness rocking eternally from tranquility to …

he said. but i am about as attainable as horizon—no, as ocean rushing toward you only to slink away. i know this, somehow, is worse.

you want to drink …

stuck to low tide ribs— the limpet— a little oil, a palm of embers

        Where for once,        we don’t chase daylight— daylight chases us,        smears her honey hands across         our sun-starved backs …