isolate 4

our huddled loneliness of years past
income fixed
far below the surface
of want

we had one another
and even then

love moved
like science after death
synchronous

exact

we were for us what no one
knew or could
see

electricity of being caught
living this way
otherwise isolate
left 4 lost

then came masquerading in wax
taxing the spirit fallen
away

the heart of ink we smudged
tore in diverse ways
apart

barbed wire knifed
squeezed like cash
touched to fire

pinned on the arm
to fade

4

were the ways

got us across the days
unscathed
4 were the winds
altogether kept us
centered
4 were the fires
could not be
extinguished
4 were the reaches
at the ends of
the earth
2 times
did i call out
to you
2 circles
over
       lapped
the birds
upon the wire
      they
fell
took flight
and
the sky
    the sky
the sky
was
water

3.3.4 gin

three. three. four. gin

I thought about you after I met you and we played cards and I thought, wow, you are a really good person, you are someone special, and I remember putting my cards down, three three four and declaring GIN on you. And you were happy for me, you didn’t need to win at all, and that was lovely for both of us. Then when I saw you again you could bend your knee a little bit more, and you said someone bought you breakfast because they saw you had no money, and then someone else gave you money for smokes but not enough for a pack, and you were able to talk the corner store clerk down for one, and you’ve had it for three days and haven’t even finished it yet. And I was happy to see good things happening to a good person, and that you’ve been able to cut back on smoking, too, cuz it’s bad for your health. I told you how I thought about you and how you’re special, and I wish that your life gets better and everything turns out well for you and you can walk again, and that you are able to open that orphanage someday somewhere like you wanted.

44

four found a friend
in four

four and four made
of arrows

birds flyin cross
some tracks

of elbows
of arms

profile made
four -n- four
side by side

in prayer

and greater
than the sum of them
selves

with gods

the deuces held court
the days were short
inside them

the nights began
at eight

number 4

number 4

I thought i was pretty damn cool and i didnt have a cigarette hanging off my lip and i hadnt died by 27 like all the rock stars, no, the stars are bright the stars are light the stars come out tonight and its fresh after the rains and i think im pretty cool but i don’t rock the latest iphone or anything, i don’t even broadcast on Instagram, the night is here and these quiet hours are mine all mine, cause im feeling pretty righteous but i dont subscribe to no religion, no, i got my own apartment and im an independent woman and an independent author, i think im pretty cool but im not on any bestseller lists, i think im pretty sweet but you wouldnt wanna cross me, no, i dont own any guns im no Hunter S. Thompson but i do believe in civil rights, ya, i dont drink or carry a medical maryjane card, i light up pumpkin candles and let my cats run free, but ive learned im only as capable as i believe i can be,  ya, you and me can only make it if we give it our all, dripping wet with paint off the canvas in the hall, i think im pretty cool, but not because of anything i have or anybody you think i am, no, i like to keep my blood pumping and circulating through the web, call it an obsession and it might be in my head, but if the motivation is to shine a light for anyone in the darkness, the hope, and these long early hours of quiet and calm so the life i have lived which has by no means been nice can channel through me to the distant lands where life is something terrible and senseless, and someone needs some help or to know you’re not alone, to find you and discover your story of survival- of dreaming- of reality- of you and me together through the thick layers of media glaze that keeps us groping in the haze, our heads held high, uncool, unfashionable, looking like losers getting old, feeling like freaks, impoverished on the streets sometimes, depressed for fuckin weeks, without a friend in the world, burnin through bridges and pages and pages, ceaseless in our inquiry, agnostic to the core, fighting for the mystery, in love with number 4.