now heavier because I am really desperate to get you on the phone give you this note involve you in my epistolary novel about (or pieced together from) old photographs fragments of conversation profane marginalia old tapes I have of us listening to the night noise outside our window the instinct has always been to keep upping the dose swallow or smash or grind sublimate repress or subsume annihilate not just obscure or elide but really obliterate the moon and its night…here come some graven images of sky coming down in slivers and rivulets in cakes of ice here it comes in whole empires of bewilderment but I feel less than human right now I feel hot all over like when you have sunburn but haven’t seen the sun in a thousand weeks (about 26 gestation periods) blood rushing to my eyes my feet everything pounding everything melancholy and falling like science like cities like the boundaries between the plain gods and those of the most occult dreamers

Bryan D. Price‘s poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in Pithead Chapel, the UCity Review, Posit, and others. He lives and teaches in Southern California.

Photo by Everyday basics

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