ANDREI RUBLEV HANGOVER

I feel beautiful when 
we talk, why
because you were so mean, 
then wanted me?
the devil sends jesters
I’ve never liked jesters
I get it from my mom 
we are them but we don’t like them
or at least we take that stance
art is a horse writhing in the mud
none of us will have what we want
take a man down
by throwing him against a tree
you had a dream about me
I liked its cruelty 
it made me feel like after all these years
I could wear eyeliner
you know I love 
to be some kind of woman 
most/only 
in a movie theater
who else on earth can reach
inside themselves
and pull out blood?
I want a pagan night 
that never goes cringe
a bohemian layabout party
where I cook
but don’t recall labor
dark water grass cuts
crescents in the sky 
I’m dumb, so are you
ladder made of branches
grief of boots that don’t fit
grief of hating the one you want 
in the theater I imagine 
boldly asking the man I met 
at the Swiss pilgrim church
to show me his barn gym
scratch that -- not me
men milling around each other 
my grandfather’s rabbit fur hat
putting the candle out with your hand
a disease where a man lies without stopping
eventually I stopped remembering
because I started to relate
the geese were released and the boy 
found the clay
after all his exertion he collapsed 
in shearling sleep
once someone gave me money
and I walked right thought it
for big beers that made
the hours melt
and the migraine gulf
between twin beds 
soft snow in the temple 
this year I have learned 
to braid my hair in ropes 
and maybe wrap a cable 
to live between divine forgiveness 
and your own torment
is the command 
popcorn on the floor 
wine in my heart 
the dream
like a rash
like paint
in the river
water