I promised

Ooh, I'm floating, goes every beginning,
you've got to wash your face, Amanda said
she couldn't get to sleep without it. Well, evidently,
you know, you know, this would be better in conversation:
evidently I can.

Baby sleep with me, is a suggestion. I don't even mean
it sexually, not necessarily, not fundamentally. Necessarily
sexually is a proverb, that's how you think of us, isn't it,
it's not your fault; I hate ellipses.

You know, my mind is a falcon, a harpie eagle, just
discovered for the first time in Belize. Belize me,
I'm not lying. I wouldn't make up  things about
endangered species. Point being -- sharp, here,
for once a rainbow that's just a rainbow, of
course it's not complete, it's just raining, prisms,
-- maybe consider it. Think of how much

we could learn about each other. I'll breathe,
like a man, decoding prison sentences with
each breath. Later we'll wonder about capital
punishment and how this fits in. Later still I'll
make you promise not get angry when your tears
excite me. I'll promise not to make a pun
about how each sentence is a sentence
enmeshed in words, forever hidden
inside this gray box or cyclid, we'll never know.

Baby language is inside us, then it comes out,
thoughts is white and pale, Shakespeare told us
maybe not to force things. Thought is pale, cold,
foreboding -- he of all people knew the incalculable
distance between "I could" and "I did" or even

  this is a sword
  this is a word. (not wordplay)

the difference between "to being," which isn't
infinitive, and "to walk." One's a goal, honey,
that other's magic. Don't make similes often but
it's like the scrape of a wing on a petal, and I
have to admit:      I
have to admit nothing. Blank space.