To begin,
we slip off our rings...

There is nothing so perfect
as the bud before the bloom, nothing...

We were not born in a storm.
There were no heavy-browed...

Waves of green!
Oh, torrential deluge...

Tonight I'm sipping nostalgia bitterly
from a chipped mug. Hunched over...

I sing of heroes.
Of Achilles and Patroclus...

I hate the way I feel,
when all I bring to you...

I want to make worlds
in miniature...

Warm wood held tight
like a body to the chest, neck...

Ashen soldiers stand watch
ranks and rows spiral past the living...

God, I'm
drinking...

Cherished-
the soft exclamation of you...