(It will be easier)

It will be easier
when I'm with you,
right now I'm hungry and sad
and can only play language
like a violin,
pretending it was made
of something.

I want to tumble down
and splash into childhood,
I want to draw it out
but when I think of what I want
I see waves crashing on a shore

I'll never know if language
finds possibility
in what it cannot do
or if it doesn't

I just know that I
was bound to look the other way
until it passes

I'm bound into living
for the sake of it
because the opposite choice
is death

I just want to fingerpaint
with words, because it's easier
than painting the entire sky

Poetry was born in the absoluteness
of words like stars or moon

I want to shout
at those fixed lights
for the sake of it,

to feel drunk on poem-drunk
which is the drunk of thinking
poem-drunk is real

I want to press my hollow
into the world
so my children can fill it
with their lives