NOTHING EVER HAPPENED TO ME
NOTHING EVER HAPPENED TO ME

pancakes and fruit

to our leader: free us to the squash blossom
bare beach and sand glass, to the sweat street and temple pulse
plastic bagged asphalt filled boxes of knives, durians,
i know you know where to cut, rotating men, your tip jar
full as garbage pail
i know your corners
make me thirsty then fill me up like
a park of pigeons or highway motorcycle lung i
am learning to breathe again and you
already know where to cut

nothing friday morning

i am interested in nothing
not for anything
i would move this frame of body to humor yours.
to taste your tastes. to watch your sounds lips
opening and pillowing mine

But then I nothinging in the sun
want not to move or stay
but to disappear sleep
and evaporate from porch like dew from
the grass of your bed.

You show me your holes all healed up
with flesh. I want to be it. Pick me. Wet me.
Draw me a black book. Trace and connect me,
your freckle spots,
show me you're going to make me a nest
for the windowsill, a trinket for the home
of my making my future. Show me your kiss
is going to love me, not press me,
and I'll float it in
wanting nothing.