i fell in a diamond well
owned by a midas
down the line.
i had toed of what remained,
some might say.
scary -
my balance at peak,
but i carried a box which seeked me out,
in turn carrying a bell,
in turn carrying a heavy secret from you

and i slipped

that's the first time i hurried

when you left town
all i heard were
deafening bells
coming from the ground
but then the cage around me
argued endlessly about
whether the ground is louder
or a song is louder
and after i thought for some time
i told it i can't hear anything

you're my hand and you were my sleep
which means no more crevices in your room

you're my tree and you were my dream
which means no breathing

you're my eyes and you still are
which means so many intersections
cut up red
and cloudy
and throwing beetles
into the mist
by the train
and sometimes
we'd hit it

i'm out of time
i can't see you

seven days of masterful aversion and one hour of pity in my favorite corner
eight months of cutting paper cranes and two seconds of quietly singing the witness song
thirteen years of sky and thirteen more years of nothing but sky
then nothing

time holding you
time holding back
time's holding me back

the river you know
the one i know
the one i float down
when i need an alibi
the one swathed mostly in eternity,
mostly in song,
lastly in fields,
it runs deeply past
the fast-trap azure
and i think i saw a
tapped lark sing
choking on the agua.
it was more of a gesture
than a song
it was more of a locked box
than an afternoon of speculation

i'm out of time

pepper flakes
by your face
by your eyes
buy your eyes some time
to face the stake
to make some
naked accusation to
buy your eyes some
more time to lie.
sometimes eyes lie,
but i won't abide

i'm out of time

and i passed by your house
to see
and i passed by your house
just to see if
if i was still there
sitting with you hand in hand
in the fire we made
but you weren't even there
you took your dark ravens
and had them fly you
out of sight
out of touch

and i'm out of time

if there are any scents after sleep, i don't want to know.
if there are any suppers after flying, i don't want to know.
if there is solace in touching a made face, and it whispers to you and gives you its color,
i just don't want to know.
if there are any women after dark, i don't want to know.
if there is religion after the fact, i don't want to know.
if there is any number after one, i don't want to know.

my name is bobby and i live in the forest.
and i walk with my hands behind my back, my back, my back in the forest.

i wish i had a glove, because then i could show everyone
the suitcase i packed with one hand instead of two.

i wish i had a timer, because then i could show everyone
how the circular track encloses all the faces I've known.

i wish i had a lap, because then you could sit on it
and whisper the relevant trinkets on the table to me.

and i wish i had started it all with a starling in my hands,
because then i could show everyone the beautiful silence of the blood streaked sky.

i wish i had winter, because then i could show everyone
a champion born under the blanket.

i wish i had a family, because then i could show everyone.

it's my birthday today.

how old are you?
infinity.

were you in the war?

i was in all the wars.

is that why you live in the forest?

no, but that's why i walk with my hands behind
my back