I’ve sat alone in the dark with these
bastard thoughts of mine like knives.
I’ve danced with my sin, felt its cold
hands lead me to the worst of myself
until I’m a solo dancer, a frenzy
of limbs in asymmetric time.

There are riddles outside in the
neon signs and street lamps.
There’s a white stag on fire and
it’s asking questions no one knows.
You can’t see the stars when
the city is this bright.

The Willamette is so dark at
night and it reveals answers to
the moon but no one is listening.
This bridge is a maze of faces and
voices and we can’t see anything
through the light of our phones.
The trees are black across the water.

There’s another version of me
that finds me every day.
Every day I sit with him and
before he starts to talk I kill him.
He’s nearly identical to me, but
you can tell him by the way he
evokes the clouds and not the earth.
He’s without soul and blood.

I’ve sat alone in the dark with the
riddles pouring out of the Willamette
until I see my face emerge in the darkness.
I answer with a strike.
The darkness ruptures and folds
like a paper fortune teller on fire.
The Grail kisses me with its light.
You can’t see the city when
the answers burn this bright.