Two Poems

On Disaster

A paper sun thinks to source time Old women moved to the middle of the street and stood motionless, looking at each other. dependent on the wind/direction Advancing in the opposite direction of reality we asked why are we fighting. a stretch of pavement The result of what we have thought throughout history, encountering uncertainty. gives you no reason to stay home. Pace, Pace Mia Sorella The crying was surprising as a train of our own flutter of actually being good. OK, I didn’t forget about you. Over murk in colored of falling in, at first just snooping for the life-like being. In a retriever of your face I decided on dying this time around it, a pagoda to the real thing, the person. I am looking at photography of your face to know. If I make resolutions and if you will stay. I feel like I don’t need to explain anything else when we’ll be laughing beyond any screenplay where I say Exactly. But sad is. Some things are sad. And then you say hope is invented anyway and this is what it’s like: Good morning! Good morning, Love. We’ll figure out a way for you to move home. The water here makes sense to us and it’s my favorite day to be brave.