"Fear in Four Dimensions," "Sketch of Garden City Beer Garden," and "December Morning"

Fear in Four Dimensions

condensed air 
moves slowly

pathologically 
  like thoughts 

from neuron
to
neuron 

floating
in synapses

we are always 
in between

screens

like shadows
 beneath
tonight’s 
clouds 
notoriously

lying to us 
as they drift like paint

and 
dripping          

the 
city

cars brake 
atop hot pavement

        swinging bodies  

like water

   I don’t want 
to die

I don’t want 
to die

          I don’t want 
               to die           

I don’t want 
to die

Sketch of Garden City Beer Garden

The night is defined as
men kiss passionately
 
sewage drains into noses
cologne simultaneously
 
the rats crawl beneath
dumpsters in the alley
behind
my friend
 
irises float like the streetlights 
outlining other forms in the dark 
until metro smoke ventilation 
swallows them whole
into moonlight humidity
naked in the night;
 
we have a full pint 
conversation
with the dripping water 
atop the wooden picnic table
in the beer garden
with three-fourths of a smile.

December Morning

Rain as grey as your skin
defines the softer parts of hands
that scrape along brick buildings
like tearing paper.
 
The raincoats suction to bodies
hoods collect faces
hands are pocketed
as huddled tents greet you
from the mouth of the E Street tunnel
and introduce you to the gentle snowfall.
 
The benches forage for faces
waiting for the tossing of eyes
to break through the rain-snow
to consider resting
to rock backwards
into the groan of cracked wood-metal.
 
To feel a gripping hand
with soil-stained fingers
catch your falling body
upon splintered arms;
you take your own notes on time.