super b0wl sunday poems #1 and #2

1.
At the intersection
of is this happening?
and isn't it
I have a reason, I think,
for stopping---
this or that wind
has eloped again
woken up for the moment
sent its regards
asked for affection
found it wanting,
traveled,
studied Scops owls, gone to Lombok,
done that whole "indonesia" thing
found women to whom to make love
with / this / and / or
had an idea
wrote it down
burned the paper
scattered it seaside
took a pill
woke up,
did it again.

2.
And like the buried animal's pigments
are secreted no more--a white mole rat,
a colorless worm, a grub to whom hue doesn't exist
--the whiteness befalls us all,
gets in our teeth, in our affect,
drains into the cracks in our earthenware
seeps into our transmissions
leaves us stained and breathless,
with reason, for once, to stand there
silently thanking the spirits
for what has us befallen.