some daily language

I covet words
that maybe would turn toward me
the far side of a figure
of speech moon

in you. Afterwards I repent, ask
for just small mortal and spit
mouthfuls of a meaning
to let go
into the cold breath night of a lamplight world.
Let everything disappear without
any promises
that matter from the too quiet and god
like atmosphere.

But again I tirelessly spend beyond the likely ends
of myself, invest in great constructs
of promises, and
the love affair I have built
around me burns up into a house of smoke
finally, oh, how much the deep down betrayal and pity
of self and selfish I manage to feel!

I promise to come to a poem then
with exponentials of wonder, with
the burning ashes of it
like a poor man’s gold of lost
and heartless ache

after love from a woman.