Sometimes serious

whether your heart breaks slowly, or in one shot no hustle whether it decomposes, with fungus and decays like dead muscle or unravels like a sweater smelling of mothballs or lives for another 600 years gradually blurring like stone carvings or quietly explodes, like a nebulous supernova or loses its flavor, like a bulb of jasmine tea or rusts like what once was your house key or dissolves like salt in the sea  or flies away like an adolescent bird or reduces sacrificially, like sandalwood or melts in a furnace or rots in a landfill or is recycled in a large system of municipal and diplomatic negotiations with countries, shipping companies, and profits, in order to bring it back somehow in another form so that it can continue living and beating perhaps as itself or as any other matter, treated with chemicals and talk to make it work within a narrow range in the spectrum of mental states, the walls of this range closing tightly around

i want to show you how tiny flecks of snow  that have now started to land, very slowly,   melt very fast - tell you what i learnt about the three types of snowflakes.  the ranges of impermanence the types of melt, in northern winters. the frost on white-bearded autumn leaves, that you told me were all  dead explicitly  in your language how knuckles get chafed  by just being exposed in this temperature i want to tell you where i’ve been and what was exciting and who i’ve met not in a formalized communicative transaction but in pedestrian and boring passing speech  where the importance of  each nugget of communication is not like blooming flowers but indifferent, and stable like grass i want to tell you the lines that  gave me pause, and read them to you many times over and over again as if just your hearing them, would make them doubly meaningful i want to detail the contours of your life that i only know against the ligh