T H I S,  A N D  T H I S

    1
He turns away from his window:
What is never if not code for please?

    2
He—the lover—turns away and retreats from—the beloved—his window and partition:
What is never and not ever if not code and locked message for please, entreaty?

    3
He—the lover and pursuer—turns away, retreats, and retires from—the beloved, Rilkean
         Other—his window, partition, and wall:
What is never, not ever, and omnipresent refusal if not code, locked message, and
         reluctant dispatch for please, entreaty, complaint curtailed?   

    4
He—the lover, pursuer, and Apollo in the forest—turns away, retreats, retires, and sets
         as the sun does from—the beloved, Rilkean Other, one who never arrives—his
         window, partition, wall, and hard brick:
What is never, not ever, omnipresent refusal, and water receding from the pool if not
         code, locked message, reluctant dispatch, and oblique yet efficient communiqué
         for please, entreaty, complaint curtailed, derailed feeling?

    5
He—the lover, pursuer, Apollo in the forest, and ardent philanderer—turns away,
         retreats, retires, sets as the sun does, and draws in the sky a line like the eyebrow
         of Marlene Dietrich from—the beloved, Rilkean Other, one who never arrives,
         Godot—his window, partition, wall, hard brick, and earthly abdomen:

    6
He—the lover, pursuer, Apollo in the forest, ardent philanderer, and anyone possessing
         sight—turns away retreats, retires, sets as the sun does, draws in the sky a line like
         the eyebrow of Marlene Dietrich, and looks with perpetual astonishment at the
         mirror from—the beloved, Rilkean Other, one who never arrives, Godot,
         absence around which everyone constellates—his window, partition, wall, hard
         brick, earthly abdomen, and object of lust:
What is never, not ever, omnipresent refusal, water receding from the pool, scheduled
         maintenance, and therapy if not code, locked message, reluctant dispatch, oblique
         yet efficient communiqué, blind item, and passive-aggressive press release for
         please, entreaty, complaint curtailed, derailed feeling, coitus interruptus,
         contraception?

    7
He—the lover, pursuer, Apollo in the forest, ardent philosopher, anyone possessing
         sight, and I—turns away, retreats, retires, sets as the sun does, draws in the sky a
         line like the eyebrow of Marlene Dietrich, looks with perpetual astonishment at
         the mirror, and turns away from its dumb fact from—the beloved, Rilkean
         Other, one who never arrives, Godot, absence around which everyone
         constellates, unknowable I—his window, partition, wall, hard brick, earthly
         abdomen, object of lust, and desire suspended just so:
What is never, not ever, omnipresent refusal, water receding from the pool, scheduled
         maintenance, therapy, and paid audience if not code for, locked message,
         reluctant dispatch, oblique yet efficient communiqué, blind item, passive-
         aggressive press release, and poem for please, entreaty, complaint curtailed,
         derailed feeling, coitus interruptus, contraception, as close to zero as?


D A Y S  L A T E R.  D A Y S  L A T E R.

I want to hurt, my friend tells me. As palliative, this imperative
sluices down the city. Swallows wish after wish, this imperative.

Unbridled body, it swells in a manner we know the source, echo
of. Fed demand. In its ardor, it makes public this imperative.
 
Now it is slipstream, flings forth the city into its streets, heaves it
onto roofs propelled onto other houses, tilting in this imperative.

But then again it is figure, what hems, whelms, a kind of marriage,
uprooted membranes part and speak with a lisp this imperative.

Liquid ballet, a trick of tulle, as seen from above, the petits jetés
of persistent dancers. How the gray sky swings this imperative.  

More: the dirty thoughts of nuns in drab habits, pooling as prayers
mount; a conspiracy of crickets: their cries mimic this imperative.

Batter my heart, my friend lobs at the sky. God, tricky genie
that he is, delivers, pounds on the windows, grips this imperative.

I do what I can, and so the natural cascades into explication,
embellishment, what consumes, a pretty point: Resist this imperative.

Resist, meaning to say straight? That father who tries to force open
the ceiling, children knotted to trees: the outside wins this imperative.   

How to let slip grief and why, why not? Let us not. Losses untallied,
what washes our way not as tragic, a way to skim this imperative.

And if not grief, guilt? Survival another shared story, the river
that slaps us awake, some gossiped-about thing, this imperative.

Mark the date, make light: my friend’s desire dissolves into irony,
and language blesses with its denials: ellipsis, parataxis, this imperative.