Every curvature.


Going insane of course

And no one will tell me

So I do what any crazy man does

Dreams and wants and can’t have

Because the object becomes a desire

And the subject is lost.


I am one strand in the bird’s nest

Not the egg, not the mother, not the brother, not the father

Just the one little strand, taken from somewhere

And I become a part of the nest


The crazy part is the curvature of my being

The part of me that curves to your will

To your utterings, to your empty spaces

To your pain

To your laughter

To the way that you prepare your food

Its sumptuousness and I dreamed of being the lettuce


I dream when I am around you

How can I ever utter my dreams when I know that

They can not be understood


I look at your eyelashes and follow the base up to the curves

I notice the small things, and I don’t want to but I do

Let this craziness go away

I can’t command it because I love it

Every curvature.

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