with this
i will learn about you.
not what you eat:
what music makes you.
here is the stack
i got for my request -
labeled in your writing:
four options for first pick.
these four writable discs -
this is sort of
anything but
a firm handshake -
it claims a greater breadth: to be
a kiss hello, a kiss goodbye,
making love, dissatisfied nights;
trembling hands, hands that do work,
hands that wave
hey! hello!
and also that signal
goodbye.
which track is this? where are you now?
silent, lying on the floor?
dry lips mouthing words, the beat
memorized so that you
don’t have to tap your fingers
to feel it in your arms?
here. can you see me? now i’m listening,
—learning you— no, fuck that.
i am seeing you, and,
in seeing… in seeing you: feeling you.
or, in feeling me feel these
songs you picked, feel what we
don’t, what we are not,
but thought we had it
in ourselves
to be.
(i said, “why didn’t you come to me?”/ i said, “why didn’t you talk to me?”)
i see what i see, feel feeling me,
feel you.
you -
you loved me.
and under the earth’s crust,
no matter the height above sea level:
lava is moltent lava:
this chorus was written at creation,
to hear, for the first time,
today,
so, with this, listening,
can i?
can i know you any better
than i knew you when
i made my request for this,
when what i wanted was this,
to feel you, to feel, to feel me
feeling you?
