The Deep Breath

1.

The breadth of a breath
that tight squeezing sound
as if a heavy roller car
inched forward on the track
by a strong steam engine

heaving the husk outward
a shooting star filled with rocks
limply cascading along
smattering its heft fatly
sloppily shouldering all weight:

You can't speak of love
whilst your identity creeps along
like a lost night in a trolly

the wounds of a fingertip trace
felt against exposed skin echo
faintly in rattled breaths.

You can't speak of love
as a paltry evening light slips
to a dark shadow ellipse

eclipsing motion and memory
neurosis emphemoral effigy
to replace shame with blame.

If you think I know anything
look at the wind pressing the trees
to bend and sway so sharply --

watch the windows shake
and listen to the screen door
whistle cathartic coughs.

If you think I know anything
gather up those breaths
and swallow full the night.

2.

Your life is forfeit when you are born,
but believe me - it makes no difference.

I swallow gods and Pokemon monsters
while riding a 6-pronged buck.

My hands are empty now
but, by god, they are strong.

3.

I dreamt about a train last night:
it moved so slowly across the land
billowing smoke and sound proudly.

The train was black and heavy
and carried me with it.