Hold That Thought

1.

Spent all afternoon

Holding in my palm,

A thought –

As if it were
A fossilized clam,
Sleeping quietly, dreaming.

 

2.

 

While we were fucking

On Friday night,
I was thinking, uncontrollably,
Of Vincent Van Gogh
Shooting himself
In the middle of his chest,
And falling flat onto a field
Of sprouting wheat,
Where winds were softly coiling.