I suppose.
—Alice Notley
I don’t even know what I need anymore.
When I picked it up for all of its buzzing,
I can’t even remember. It’s like a night-
mare. [The name of this one is Please
Make a Mixtape with All of His Genitals.]
Where was I? Nightmare, of course. And
where are you? Not here, never here.
Never when a nightmare is here. Never
here then. Not ever. And where are
you? Where are you? I don’t even
know what I cried anymore. When I
picked you up, hushing and hushing.
