Stars at
Fiesole
Above gold Firenze
A caraffe, olive oil, and bread
Alone
Tables
Vacant and still in patient rows
Between the heavens and
The city of
Dante
Tag Archives: travel
gas station
wet fuel
giant scratch-offs
cigarette packs: rainbows
anthropologies of litter
candy
credit
two men cranking old slot machines
arsenals of soda
a beer walk-in
no air

That love which cannot fail to be
In the way
Infinity contains
Infinite infinities
Or the way
My life divides
Into briefer, lived-out lives
There is a sadness
That branches behind
The green in your eyes
So if you should
Wake up on a train
On its way to Pompeii
And you think you might feel
Lonely watching window rain
Drops wobble and dissolve
But you only feel a sapling sadness:
You’re just living out
One quantum version of me
And life won’t get tough
For a couple more years
So don’t worry
When you get ivied-over
By the branching, lightless sadness
When it’s the same to look
As it is to close your eyes
The god we call Because
Will do the remembering for you
And a love older than life
Will continue because
Living did sometimes feel nice