LET’S HAVE BOTH (II)

Between the goddess versions
of Apollo and D-
We are utterly lost.
They pretend to be identical
which is seemly in women
(identical with women)
so of course we’re in love.
But with whom.
They each have a tell but they won’t.














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Hello, you’ve met my animal
but not myself. Hölderlin
had a word that meant both
war, which is order
and chaos, which is party.
This beach rarely says no, like I do
doesn’t it? And out on the horizon
the ocean is pool colored
unused to being compared with
other than itself.















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Like when you accidentally engender
competition by doing stuff.
The fallout is almost a praise poem.

And his beard was frosted with the coldness of years
and thus he spake—

your wordplay kindles joy in me
the years abroad, seeking anecdotes
I always say no at the wrong time
since being for is not like being with

without, withal














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This is why our “daily” isn’t—
defined in the box that’s an ocean
or staid in the dark
but lovingly gazed on—
a file that writes without stopping
a sparrow running on its little legs
(I think it’s a sparrow—)
(I think those are legs—)
who declined the wind in their career
early on, because it was myth
or got caught streaking from one
extreme to the other
in their oh-so-serious golden carriage.