ante meridiem III: dear “how-silently-the-heart-pivots-on-its-hinges,”

i have a shrapnel desire for vagueness
because nearness is more than a shared
windshield worldview, because nearness
questions the practices of ellipses — spotlights
exclamation marks’ truancy — makes a wish,
but nearness colors daruma-doll’s wrong eye,
then proclaims that russian dolls
are so full of themselves

i have a shrapnel desire
for vagueness, there’s no
such thing as direct
communication — only faint
spiderwebs — tethering
the densities of yeast and
breaths of pith — people
don’t listen, they wait
for their turn to talk,
unsolicited adornment

i have a shrapnel
desire for vagueness
because clarity is
perishable — porous,
deeper than horse

ante meridiem III: dear “how-silently-the-heart-pivots-on-its-hinges,”

piss on
murk
snow

your one and only,
nearsighted loner