dream of birdfeeders. start dreaming of birdfeeders. I wish I had a birdfeeder. none of these poems contain birdfeeders. but they should and I’m mad that they don’t. some people should confront their privilege. some people need birdfeeders. is it one word or two? do you have one? I was out walking by the lake, there are two lakes, they’re small, about 200 feet each like little eyes and you walked by, one hand in the air. it was in that moment that I realized I missed you. I had always missed you. Nora says that all movement is circular. I believe them.
I believe I am avoiding pleasure. do you believe me? will you read this if something happens? let’s make, create, “and voices.” where have they gone, where have you been. some palatial gliding back and forth and we were never even that close were we. to ourselves I mean. this is how I answer your question of how it feels. I say something like, it feels cozy. you cook old eggs, I read Milton (this is a lie), I sit back and think about reading Milton, I should probably read Milton, don’t tell anyone, instead I look up his life story and forget it shortly thereafter. you leave old eggs in the pan.
if we look at this in circles time starts to act differently. for instance, if I take a long train ride it can be 19 hours, but it was actually 19 days, no one else on the train will realize this, only the people who are looking at the train in circles will realize this, the line people eat sausage biscuits and diagnose snow.
what if there were a new moon every week – what would you call it? memory goes faster when time slows down and the more moons the slower we are. they’d like to think that I’m far away from you but I’m still here, I know.