To make room for the money shot
To make more catharsis
Feelings like
Here’s the picture I saved
&
Here I am
Again, but somehow different

We will continue this later

A balloon under an awning
Was it red for you?
The hollow made by shaking
Coins in a cup
Trash bags ravaged in the street
Faces up against the window
Minute by minute
Something that urges

First thing I look for
In any body
Points of departure
An object to capture

Illusion of to hold

A woman on the train spends
The whole ride deciding
Whether to filter her face
& how

Outside, it’s nearly magic hour
One hand in another
Things seen in pieces
Puddle streaks
Outline of a leaf
Each stem split
Like a ladle
Half-spilled on pavement

Holes like those left by bullets

Film technique
In which footage keeps rolling
As voiceover from a future scene starts
Some kind of catch
Up or put off
Or prediction

The way a backpack’s latches swing
Back & forth
Back & forth

For someone else’s private viewing
You know they have drive-thru funerals
For those who find it hard
To slip away

Somewhere in the middle

Three girls with lollipops
One just holding the wrapper
Deciding whether she likes black cherry
The scent & how it tastes

The way my eyes can make you stop

Transition from the still
To the moving
Image, a sign
Above the water fountain warns
Do not use for anything other
Than drinking

A voice on the air says
Does God condone torture?

A voice in the air says
That’s a wrap
&
Moving on

Everything looks upside down
At dawn, or as if doubled

In a mirror, we see what we want to
Like parts of some distant being
That remain disparate
Long enough for each look
Of desperation

You know what I mean

Form as filament
Wish as fulfillment