A Pin In A Kiss

in the morning i go alone in my imperfect harmony.
i bring my fork and my spoon. i bring the longest epiphany.
i bring what i find in the tide. 
what i find without faith.
i bring such beautiful things that the monster 
of the sun is dealt with, by a moon
as long in the shadow
as the world
from the 
womb.

the itch of the parlor tricks that froth at the mouth
of undead rivers. the copious noise of falling in love
with an absolute denial. wringing a wet star
with an old scarf of undiminished regret.
diminished by booze and all the heretics
on the head of a pin
in a kiss.
i sleep where our thievery 
leaves a fingerprint
where we last
flinched.