Origin of Difference
For the thousands who were thirsty
The difference between the sun and a man’s body
dried out and bleached in the desert at the border
is that his body ends where the sun last touched him, even beneath him,
where the light can’t reach, there is a mirror of night
moving slowly to avoid the light.
From any angle, his mouth seems as if it had once been swollen with joy.
Perhaps you have to have the right kind of thirst
to keep yourself inside your body.
Not the kind that makes you drink from a muddy pool,
but distant, not entirely scratching at your throat—
where your eyes are stitching
together a biography of grief.
If you could separate his body from
the light that wraps around him
like a tight leather glove,
pulling them apart as you would
two dogs in a fight, with bats and hot water—
in one hand, you would have an empty bowl of
scattered light because in the desert, the world is only halves to us
through the innards of hallucination, as in half of a tree
dancing itself away in the distance,
where each branch is a sea of individual tremblings.
And in the other hand, a bell ringing where you can’t see it, which
will eventually take the shape of your hands,
whose ringing is the sound of feet,
trampling in all directions through the desert.
Origin of a Scientific Theory
There was a loneliness about him
he dragged it like a tail we tore
him open it was the first time
inside he was a tangle
of purple deflated
not a color at all only sound
scraping along the walls then
he was lonely again
he smiled darling limbed thing
kept unraveling like yarn.