Cartographic Memory

I think someone is dead No, no, not the daily dead and dying But someone who is close to me She cut me off once, saying I am muddy water I think of a postcard she wrote to me Open, to my office address, with tenderness...

Lust never sleeps, It dreams of you Your face in my head Questioning me, confronting me With those big conquering eyes Prodding me to be straight And honorable, to you, to you alone Squeezing the last breath out of me...

Unforgiving, this attachment to you is. My heart believes it is a place without lies. And calls out for your heart, thinking foolishly, prematurely, and without any proof that some look, some smile, some touch from you...

She told me this would happen That the time present would fly But the time past would stay. Hearts that pounded together Would break alone, and Divide in solitude, into twins. She said one twin will fly to her And the...

You dismissed my words, remember? You kept track of me to swat at a merest chance And months later, You sent me a philosophical missive For that, here is an ordinary poem Read this and delight in your reflection...

And so here I am, Back again in your blindspot. Not in your thoughts, Nor in your fascinations, Not even a chance, years from now, To be in your recollections. To be in your blindspot, Is like not even being born, But...