when my heart becomes as vivid as your apples and geraniums you must promise to paint it— the north light will pour through the window into my palms, and be gone
light
the blinds divide the blue sun, your blond hairs glisten on your uncovered leg
light bends around us like fabric— at breakfast I explain: the peculiarities of light, our bodies mapped perfectly by chance
prediction
just over that dune, that's where you'll meet her, she'll have fair skin and will be sunning by the shore
the edge of the ocean will tangent the brim of her hat, you'll make some abstruse comment, how it flattens space and makes it appear she and the water are touching
twelve hours in the future
you drink sake and walk down white roads too small to contain your ambition
the moon is remote, drifting through the branches, the thing in itself unaware of the man yelling at it