wet trees, ii

you are walking for miles with your friends in the forest,
and then, everyone has run out of things to say,
and you walk along in silence—
words are losing here

that's not how it works

no names

we don't play that way

i can't feel

when you expose

i'll connect to you

and only you

no one else

here

i want to know your innermost secrets

without knowing a thing

Four Brief Poems About Being Sick and Talking

I misunderstood your email
and moped for a week and got
sick, sick, sick. Now you're coming
over on Thursday and my room
is a mess and I don't know
if I'll be able to keep from
coughing all over you.

-

I owe mom a call.
I owe mom a call and
I don't know if I'm going
to call her soon because I'm sick
and talking stresses me out.

-

My broom-headed friend tells me,
"When you're sick you lose the
strength to carry on, even in
your bad habits." Imagine that!
Even mistakes, even inadvertent
mistakes, take strength.

-

My voice was Grand Canyon deep
for two days, but it was clear.
Now that I'm getting better
it's filling up with gravel again.