Like how high banjo trills make me go electric.
Like how charity. Like how gold.
Like I’d like to take you in & feed you a little
sweet milk. Like you’d mind, but I’m, like,
so tired of honesty like California fault lines.
Like how this is the big moment. The time of it.
And I’m ready now for the next time.
Like how cuteness rules the dating quadrants.
Like how sexy. Like when I say you look good
in white linen I mean sheets. Like I’d like to
rob your booty bank. Like how I’d take my
winnings to the grave.
Betsy Wheeler "Non-Sonnet for Telling You Everything"
It is said, the past
sticks to the present
that we are flies
struggling to pull free
It is said, someone
go so far
Nor am I Rembrandt,
master of the black
and green darkness,
the hawk’s plumes
as it shrieks
down from the sky