TREMOR

late to sojourn upon the lathe to nowhere
on the fingers of every world citizen’s
vibration-fracture stench of ammonia-acidic

cat-piss in this room of dreamy lands &
muddy labyrinths where granules of litter
is strewn about where mold is melding

with the walls to impressionate my airwaves
spores gliding through phantom lungs
ghost-limbs encircling wind twisting

TONIGHT in this very tremor of night
the room you’re in is sanitary & sweet
like garden tendrils curled around your

legs soft where you leave stones upturned
underneath like flint in a river like
the insects’ movement like what “squeezes

my spirit” ravaged before sunrise &
what I am now is but a shredded mummy
that you unwrapped in the dust of your

memory-temple in fragments left dismantled
but here in this cafe in this chilly tomb of a cafe
where I’m expecting to meet someone new

(newfound in this meeting-place in puffs of
blue smoke-fogged flickers where
my nervous urgency never fades

like flash bulbs) you’re no longer near
except when I think I see you in someone
else & I arrive at places like this as if

seeking to make my own way
tumbling or falling I come snapped
through the ceiling of the muttering

leaped into our bones of a slowly closing
casket but there I see the new face appear
coming through the door looking around

I’m stir-crazy hatching new thoughts
to remember you like a sad tomato
or a busted Valentine