Two poems from his forthcoming book, “This Is It.”
1.
I made it to the lake. My hands smell like water and fish. Down at them look and awe, you put a hand in my swimsuit. Is this love? My skin feels different. In the wind and rocks are wave is recoil on other, see, water in my left ear. Wind from camping upstate, long gone, so why. I felt a stormof night is pushing me & tires, left and right, with lightning lights. Now on the beach is warm and damp and find myself, here it is. From the storm got a feeling of waves, though I can’t see—my back was arched and dizzy eyes and here it is. I look down at my hands, they are water and fish. I do not recognize your gust is swelling from the right and I am sand—this is it.
[...]
5.
Ok good now you have me, now in the tub is you sticking on me, I say I can take it, you can do me all good no wrong. This is communication they say and stick. And now is warm, I tweak. Can I be your little sewage or spittoon? Inside me are words you refuse to define, like tepid or a shrew. You don’t want these words in our sex life but ice cream maybe yes in tub feels good—that’s the meaning of tepid, here it is, looked it up. Don’t we all need sewage though. Please spoon me feed your vanilla, I hope. Or tense up your shoulders when we do. In your arms is me and I am little thing, do squeeze. I need your kind speak affirming. Oh, yes, this is it.