I was looking to soften living
I was looking to become
a museum of small gestures
a poet of furniture
the way the apartment aspires
to become a vehicle
I just needed something
to soften living
the way the table touches
the sickness in my hands
the way the apartment
becomes a vehicle
propelling me forward
through a plate-glass
version of the present
while I hurry-up-and-wait
in nostalgia’s backstage
I was looking to be this room
with no responsibility
for what happens inside
I was looking for
language in the mirror
the space between
being and the effect of being
the way the apartment understands
love as a technology
of not knowing
life as a symptom
of desire’s momentum
poetry as an effect
of the brain unworded
the only thing to survive us
is our vanity
