How Blue Follows You
The blue's the thing, salty and fainter (than) a star
the scars are in the telling of the story, my stars my
scars my story, blued truths picked from pockets
plural, that: more than one truth and more than one
pocket, mi bolsillo es su bolsillo when slidden hours
later you ask me if tangerines can = silence if then
why, I nod mostly because I can, rattled unsuddenly
by the scar you're burning into me.
you speak of phantom limbs,
and a memory of bridges burned blue
deep in January, tonight maybe
stars steeped in bone and honey.
it's not the same as
turquoise or happiness,
formulas written in dust.
sometimes it's just the
stabbing of finger at shoulder
or friction of tongue, and the
pulsing leer he levels through me.
when staring through windows
smeared with spatter patterns
an octave dropped here, there
fourteen more and then:
the sound of a dying star.
I saw stars tonight for
the first time in this city over
Long Beach, Orion and others
handfuls thrown over cracked
neon stars over stars under stars.
3. n/ever trust pigeons that purr
4. it becomes urgently yes, and then burns cobalt
5. he thinks / I have / know how
8. it's never the architecture you expect
10. in which I ask him yet another question
10a. in which he stares back, amused
10b. in which he answers, still willingly
11. blink back the beasts, blurred or not
12. this area left blank intentionally
13. naked or not, the beasts willn't wait
14. I have a vague inclination to blister
16. The anatomy is scripted. Stick to the script.
"I have kind of a hybrid set of pieces here for you, pulling from small moments that hopefully help carve out this recent arc of mine. I had in mind to call this collection only How Blue Follows You"
Sina Evans, California