A Hole in Berlin
A hole in the archive
In the empty lemon
In the city silver
And tensile with wet streets and smoke
I lose myself
In the wound of art
The keyhole
In the tall door for extra security
The organ holes in the heaving cathedral
The little glass hole I looked through
When the chimney sweep arrived
To clean the white hole
Of the porcelain stove
Holes in the feet and hands of Christ
The slick lacerations
In the mortal helmet the pissing trough the mouth
Holes in the wide eyes
Of the flayed horse
A hole to jump into
Long day of sparkling water Not plugging in my phone
A hole in which we live like lovers
Virtuous fidelity
A hole in which we die like lovers
You crushing my throat with your fists
Where we met for Szechuan
Our English is a hole
A high-walled cemetery of holes
You let me in
Sunlight filtering through the ivy
The glowing tips of cigarettes
Through which the future comes up
Through which all that noise comes down
Borghese Gardens
I kneel in pagan light
Pleasure briefly disfigures you
Glistening with sweat
In the orchard
Swallowing your spit
I give you
My agony
I strip myself of it
The Wall
Soon it will be morning
Soon it won’t belong to them any more
Men in the parks
Masters of leaves and heavy flowers
How many bodies
Can he force
Into intimacy
Before breaking apart
Remember
I was lost
Almost fading away
In the capital that fades away
And you knew me
So fleetly
You let me in
Your fingers brought my blood to the surface of my skin
Roses
I was among the cultivated rosebushes
When a bomb went off
The leaves shook
An English couple ducked down
Remember reading articles
About terrorism
Over espresso and hot milk
The sun shined vainly
Beyond beauty
Beyond rescue
The sky a Rape of Europa blue
Touch Me
I mount his torso
In my clean underwear
I think of the altarpieces hacked out of their gold frames
Amor
You made so many mistakes
None of them mattered
Rome’s body now is ashes
You have spent yours like money
The obscure and effeminate moon
Forces you open
Under the shattered roofs
Up the stairs
Earth smell clings to your slippers
Earth smell clings to your neck
It’s too expensive
To be alive
You fall on the bed
Like a handful of coins
Troubadour
I wear your shirt
Winds with unpronounceable names
Bother the trees
There’s a town up the road
Where locals sell their bodies
Their cows
Their blankets
The winds whisper and bellow
Late summer
Bunches of violets
The river embraced you
The river embraces every man that jumps into it
The gate darkened by moss
Slams loudly against the house
Where your grandmother was born
And I dream of you
In the unmade bed
I dream that we live together
Animals rise unbeautifully
Spiders find their way
Is that what bit me
In the belly?
It gets me a little hard
Imagining our blood mixing
The winds so violent
When they cross the mountains
The farmhouses have their backs to them
The towers are open
So that the winds can pass through them—
I sleep with my back against you
Break it
Press your fresh against it
I’m sorry
Have you ever experienced a dream as if it were a memory?
Not like a story
I mean the sensation
Romans saw the winds as horse-gods
Galloping across the earth
They trample me with impeccable hooves
At noon the light falls vertically
And combs their flanks
And their tails sweep the sea
What blows through the impenetrable
Come close to me