Rich Ives

First I walked outside and
then I got up walked outside

reluctance shook my hand
a bundle of possibilities
frightened myself
and frightened myself

soon I had gathered
thorny with anticipation

a crippled storm limped over my island

the inevitable opened its mouth
no doors windows glazed

the only way out was ignorance and
indulgent fearlets of tears
and I went in
opaque with fear

I had lost it
I remained amiss

bliss-whipped but here among the swollen

even the sky is big
here is what I have won:

instead of weddings
uncomfortably warm

instead of clothing
instead of innocence
and desirable
instead of windows mirrors

a small brown animal
with suspicious desires

a general terror of clouds
a round cool panic

I’m offered a newspaper I feel lightheaded

I walk into the woods
a conclusion that looks like

if I name it
now I live in the light

and the light
evidenced invited

the damp skin of a love letter
my invisible cane
I find myself I arrive at
a chair with the lid down no doors

it might get smaller
and the dark

and the dark
contagious holding

I’m waving
at the blind white curb of contradiction

while the world achieves my limitations




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