black-eyed angels swim with me

and with me. to swim, to sleep
in drowning drums of sorrows.
the junctions in this day
are tired, and roll like
sickly tides over each other;
to swim with angels, to swim
alone.

and see nothing. i built pyramids
in my mind for this, to turn around
slow-wheeling constellations
and bring them home. like an
amnesiac kid, hailing thieves who steal echoes
alone.