2B

the gloaming sky dimmed
through those tall naked windows
and unwrapped fingers, feeling vacant
plaster air in room 2B: "i remember here,"
tendered rasping lips between "aha! i've learned
my lesson," and "so! this is how she looks
nude." standing on his floor amidst
echoes and so much dust, he ambled
up the broad quiet alley with carelessly
laboring eyesteps. "houses are so colorful
here," he told her once, and though
she wasn't listening, they were:
who can tell how many years of souls recall
this steep decline, the split colors
on the wall by the duplex and
the Italian grandmothers feeding
their ovens' bread to the birds
who live in that shady tree?
those victims of memory
live in silence and the empty white
walls, carbon-scarred from candles and cigars; 2B
held so much life! and yellowish beyond. held his
one year, and in the walls he met the ghosts
collected by Before. outdoors,
grudging somnambulists brought such giant trucks
to clear the way for drywall and smooth cement:
this row will be so modern! smelling
new for infant academics--
they'll gawk at towers, moving sofas in
--he watched them
swarm around, light the basement
charges while he stood his floor above.
one bright moment! when all the walls opened wide
and time's faded prisoners rushed out together,
he died with the rubbled house amidst its
ancient kings.




8/12/08 - i miss things, like living in oakland and having my own room and kitchen and such. life is never terrible if you wake up for it, i suppose, but i'm having trouble getting myself to wake up to where i'm at for wishing i was so many other places.