Look, the tree outside is
just a tree, a simple set of
deciduous life-expectancy

And whenever you talk to me
I’m just a headlong hammer, a
cracked braying thing,

But I know we are not
speaking of infinities
or perennials, or anything green

Look, I’m just trying to explain
that to be drowned is just
another form of feeling the rain

That this here heart-curve,
is a chaise lounge for you
to put your feet on

Not to say you made me furniture,
rather when you were looking for
syllable, I was a whole chord

Pressed in unison, reaching some
300 words per minute, some kind
of archive of feeling, surely

Look, I’m trying to explain the
sign signified relationship but
the problem is I’ve kind of

Forgotten it because when
I look at the tiles shuttering moss
on the roof, I see a continent

And when I look at you
a foreign nation I don’t
speak the language of

But I can type fast,
so I can keep recording
what you say whether
I get it or not.