1 this is the boat i dive, electrified, that i crash nosedown in the mud between years, i stick there like gum on your shoe, stuck like god is stuck like gum to your shoe, this is involuntary mythology, this is the ugly stuff our beautiful imaginations are built of, this is the mortar that holds my hand-drawn legs up, my recipe for a cherry-jar filled with sand, for non-nourishment, for drinks that taste like holding everything back behind your lips.
2 this is the rift that encircles me, this is me circled like a broken bird. this is the us of me, marked. this is the postscript to insistence. my pebbled fists clenching empty. my knuckles scraped against stacked paper. this is the us of you confabulated, doomed, surrounded. this is a turn. this is my turn, or yours. this is the us of me salting your sores. circling your delicate wounds with my clumsy twigs and crayons, my endless collections of alphabet sugar.
3 this is applause. this is a girl drummer. this is memory, splashed like everybody dancing drinks across the ballroom. this is fable or prequel or pattering your palms against mine, uncreating a mess, rewinding our eyes to the first time when the feathers in my pockets were just feathers in my pockets. this is how you look at me like that. this is to forget me how i bat my lashes, laced with starry things. this is the sand dollar in your wallet, waiting, this is the emptying of your magic hat. this is birds don't fly out. it's all made up.
4 this is watery sleep-gesture. this is your body how i imagine it. this is me and you in a basket, left on the doorstep of an abandoned house. this is where an owl lives. this is where i balance my secrets with creations. this is full. this is a color without a name. this is a picture of you i colored on the back of a box. this is the color of your decisions. your organs rearranging, your heart and your lungs disagreeing, this is the knot i keep tying. your eyes are the attic window. this is the way to escape.
5 these are my guts.
this is the gut-boat i drive, this is the leak in my good intention. this is when i lose the last oar. this is me staring at myself in a gutter-puddle. this is cupping water to my lips. this is standing up as straight as i can. this is me sleepy. this is me bewildered. this is me full of shit. this is me looking at you. this is the trapdoor to our dreams: these are my hands: these are my bruises. this is me a liar. this is me in love. this is what the blue sky smells like.
i'm telling you because i know.
today is my birthday.
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