his name on the lease
where she takes me in
she takes the same steps
to get to it
i’m guessing my keys
used to be his
and even in my bed
his name slips
she wishes
she never… though
his name on the lease
& their anniversary is the wi-fi password
and she wants to move to Portland
and she wonders why she hates it here
where I am
& I watched his name renew
on their anniversary
on the new lease
in the city
where I live
and she hates it here
she says
do you feel haunted?
can you forgive
when you notice
how unlikely it is
that anything we currently believe
is correct
are you petrified?
can you feel
free of dreaming of knowing anything
i know we are primitive
to eight thousand years from now
& on our evolutionary scale
that might as well be the same
time as me
even existing
what would it mean
to enjoy living
& noticing
you, like me, are every living thing
Very light and wet rumble
between me and the earth
and on which side is GOD?
Am I nearer or
do all GOD’s lovers draw GOD in?
I could see things I think
in a frame out a window — sure
but it is Wednesday and
GOD like the earth
obscures the view
of the beginning and the end
of the parts of the week I care at all for.
I bet the clouds crunch
so goddamn loud
to force a hundred people through the clouds.
Why do I know when I land
I’ll have all the same questions
and ugly little answers
for the hot metal motors
locked up in the sky
and the pretending-to-be-comfortable clouds
surrounding my mind.
Why when I die will I know
what I only ever wanted to know
when I was alive.
some people i love are dead
i recall
just when i begin to hate my experience
my experience of lethargy
of apathy
of a cold cool depressive state
where i look through all of my belongings
and find nothing
as some people i love are dead
so for them
there is no experience
none at all to wish they were not in
none to long for
none even to recall
for me, at least, i think
i prefer this to that
i would rather crawl into a slow ball completely spent
i would rather wring my hands in longing for
the faith i used to have
i would rather use all of my attention to ensure i am taking at least one more
(and one more)
than not breathe at all
than give it all
than lose any possible chance to see again
someone that i love
and feel loved again
by them
i was told that poems do not have to be any good i haven't written a good one ever since
will we live again?
i don’t know
i said
but there is some reason to think so
he waited
it’s just that sometimes when i love someone
i get a feeling that i am them
i just haven’t been them yet
i have seen myself in clouds and trees
and, i know, i am not them right now
so, it seems, perhaps i have already been
and do you love me?
we asked
and we don’t know
and will know
we will know
eventually
sleep
or smile all day
maybe they won’t remember
a single thing I say
maybe their letters won’t improve
maybe their friendships will come and go
maybe they won’t listen
maybe they won’t line up
maybe they won’t sit down
maybe they won’t shut up
and maybe none of that is so bad
at all
maybe what they, and all of us, need
is just a place to be
safe
and know
that there is space
for us and every feeling and every
every need
and everything we bring
into today
at least
they’ll know (I think)
that here, they knew
that they had space
for every feeling
and every need
“I don’t have to make you happy”
it starts
and every thought since then has been
“why not”
and every thought since then has been
a tiny drop
a tiny drop on the well established order of
“I could never make anyone happy”
& “I am good for nothing”
I do not know how these became the standard model
(that is not my business)
but doctrines of complete depravity
I do not think helped
“I don’t have to make you happy”
it says
& “no one is asking you to”
replies
& what this respondent does not know
is that I already know no one
is asking for
me to do
anything
for them
as I said, they are already certain
I am good for nothing.
how carefully he asked
if I’d be here when he got back
he’ll keep the feeling cards
to share with his sister
Mad
and Frustrated
Happy
and Sad
he’ll try to express himself
without huffing at dad
but in our whole conversation
of feelings and needs
of words we can use
instead of our screams
I still can’t get past
how carefully
he asked
if I’d be here
if I’d be here
when he got back
nathanael.ink 