why it seems vapid to
be widely read
i don't know why i made
that connection

oh my saccharine black
america i can never
be yours i must
die young i can't

imagine outlasting this one
immeasurable moment
would this small poem
mean more if i quoted

baudelaire i understand
the deep envy of sickness
24 hour sports networks
and the junkie sweetness

of suspended living but
i have always had a romance
with crowded marketplaces
and urban churchyards

i've yet to define an ideal



but how women lust for uncertainty