the apartment

apartment was
our lips and our touch
we turned the lights
white office, yellow tail,
reached out for the walls
with a hundred hands filled its space: it was easy
after this hard day
to let ourselves



Hurray! Remember steaks and wine, that…
thing we said we’d do with us and you, remember? Well,

I’d say it’s way past time we’d met,
sometime this week, I said. She said,

well, lol, that sounds great. Let’s meet, yeah, definitely,
I’d not forgotten. Lets schedule
to schedule some time
this week. Well,

no rush, I said.

We’ve time for other things to schedule before that.

She had not said, who knows
how many plans the little future will bring? How many humans and plans
this little room can hold, with its little us and its little yous, over there,
right there, where you belong?

Keep in touch. Touch often, you say and I do.

Drunken Song

All ninety-nine bottles of beer were me, while you were falling off the wall of my left shoulder and into the whiskey of the pillow case. I counted one two tree, for two hundred and seven one thousand and twenty-five bottles of you on me riding away into glorious sunset, glorious orgasm, the end, as I crawl out of you, parched for a little bit of song, covered in the constant orgasm that is the rum night before birth, the white night before the dawn, you surrender my name to me. I fear for you. This is the loneliest of hours but the closest of times, when we are bottled and made to feel full to the very brim of our fingertips.

Fifty four bottles of you were me, while you were
me, falling off the cliff of my inability to count. I feel that this is the best that I can get
in terms of math but
you say “no love you are as good as
you are” as
quiet as cognac can heave the sea up
throw down the sky.

Twenty two bottles stand against you and me
towards a song made of names. Isn’t
the moon always made of names
always when it sings in its howl Radiohead voice?

Three, then one, we are the last against the wall. How
long has it taken us to find each other
like this
like alcohol left to get better with time,
without the assurance
it will.


Amazing, the city huts slowly unfold their veritable lengths
imagined wider than street oceans, broader than Sistine shoulders,
transfused into height, they scrape the sky ground raw red;

And every tree had been as quick as mountains about them,
as ancient as growth; the bushes, they swam up
the buildings’ weird arched backs and died and lived, bringing water where
there had been only old dust; there, the trees flowered

And the clouds sang, for the wind, it passed through them
and was heard;

The buildings’ glasses dissolved, the peopling eyes showed
where city’s kind
metroed from life to life, without the possibility of
a stop;

And in city’s center, you would come to realize,
for you are a grain of her as she is a dream of you,
that you had stopped moving
only because everything would grow
slow for you

Its thought kiss.

check post


for fear of bombs
on their way to an illegal work,
one that doesn’t pay well
and has no health benefits,
happiness and boredom, exaltation and irritability, calm and surrender
through you
who are stuck in the middle of my stomach;

there is no getting around you,
fence maker, wall waker,
you undress my emotions with your few words
speaking their language only
through commands
checking the trunks of their vehicles
having created a procedure for any who approach
looking suspicious;

My joy’s children stand and watch
as you tell her to go over to the female officer
and be stripped of anything human
to become stamped with you
they cry their what out
becoming anticipation
for this to –


זה לא יוכל  להיות אלא כך

את תגיעי להיות חור שחור שסופח רק עוד צער
אבל יש בו אולי את כוּלי בצד השני של חוסר הנראות

ושאת ואני נהיה בבית של אמא שלך, בירושלים תגידי “אני רוצה
לומר ‘כן, תנשק אותי’ אבל האם זה חכם?”

והנשיקות שלך תהיינה חורים שחורים
תמשוכנה אל תוכן רק עוד צער. זה לא

יוכל להיות אלא כך, את
תגיעי אחרייך, שחורה מקווי גופך וספרים
שלא נגמרים בָּעברית או בגופך ובנשיקות
שלך תהיינה שאיפות
קצרות פנימה
שבשלי לא תהיינה ואני בכלל

אחשוב עלייך
שנשארת בירושליים. את תגיעי אחרי מפגש
עם חברים, עם פיג’מה תיכנסי
למיטה תצפי שדבר לא יקרה
אבל אנחנו ננוע כמו שרק כוכבי לכת
לא יכולים להתעייף, זה לקראת זו, תמיד הנה נפגשים
ואני אשאף אותך על דרך השינה (כמו שלא
יכולתי לשאוף את נשיקותייך גם) אאסוף את שיערך
בחלל השחור שבינינו זה לא

יוכל להיות אלא כך

אנו נבטיח זו לזה שלא להבטיח כלום, להישאר במסלולים שלנו
לספוג קרבה כמו מטחי מטאורים, כרגיל
אולי לקפוא או להכחיד כמה דינוזאורים
להיפגש אולי רק כליקוי  שאף אחד לא יראה
בירושלים, בעוד כמה שנות
אור אולי בוקר, דרך תריסים כבדים. זה לא יוכל
להיות אחרת.

אני בזרועותייך שממשיכות לומר ליטוף תוך לא ואת תדעי
שיש דברים שעומדים בפני הרצון תוך לא
תדעי שזה לא יוכל  להיות אלא כך