You came to my house (I made you blueberry pie for your birthday) and if something was wrong, would you say so? We stood out by the lake, lit up by fishing huts and Christmas lights (feels like I’ve known you for so long) and if something was wrong... 

Walking through the edges of your neighbourhood where forest stood, now it’s a plywood ghost town (just waiting to fall down) happiest memories of caffeine, backyard fires and housesitting, coming to your floor hockey, and if something was wrong... 

Sharing cigarettes and tossing matches off of railroad bridges—if I had ever belonged with you alone (and if you moved home) would you say so?

If You

(i’ve noticed that you’ve been inconsistent) 

there is a train passing birds on the waterfront 
seeing you has become as familiar as seeing  the back of my eyelids in the sun 

i can feel the warmth on my skin, through my clothes 

my vision goes: red, orange, yellow 

i can close my eyes and it looks like and it feels like every other time i’ve closed my eyes in the sun 

and there you are


https://fingerprintsonglass.wordpress.com/tag/anne-michaels/

My Song 24

There is sunlight surrendering deep orange, presunset 

     &      turning potted plants into dusty plastic silhouettes

     &      glaring onto CRT TVs obscuring people place and name

     &      casting words onto the wall: EAT IN COFFEE GOOD FOOD AND COLD DRINKS 

     &      when you step inside, the door chimes, surrender to the light    

     &      just let it fill your face, the light of both childhood and old age 

     &      feel it warm and wane 
     &      feel it warm and wane

Dylan Bodner's Album

Cindy's Burgers And Subs Review

2:00 am - sunrise, may 6 2015

i’m wide awake, grant and kenaston. there’s VHS tape all over the boulevard—there’s no case, there’s just piles of magnetic tape torn apart. 

*

I walk down taylor to the ESSO, and I buy a thing of CORN POPS and some milk. the guy who works there says he likes my headphones, so we both stand and talk for a while about my headphones. 

*

I cross the tracks behind the WALMART, and there’s a field with trails and paths that wind toward the tree-line where I see an entrance to a place where people walk their dogs—there’s a little trash can filled with bags of dogshit next to a thing with extra bags if you forgot.

*

now I’m sitting on a bus bench eating CORN POPS, and a work bus just went past that said industrial express and there was no one on it.

*

and there used to be a mural on the underpass of two people diving in a pool, they painted over it with grey paint but over time it cracked and you could see the colours peeking through. then some time passed and they repainted—this time a mural of a guy holding a football—but then they started renovation, and now there’s no mural at all.

birchtree

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