Catalogue d’Oiseaux:

Trying to make you love me again

Is like notating birdsong.

I made you the ideal theory:

An unsystematised list of every correct proposition.

It says nothing

And is perfectly useless

And is perfect,

Like the thing that you were.

The morning still falls

And squalls through your hair

Like the wind that I cannot contain by

Mapping its every minuscule alteration—

By changing everything.

Tiny fingertips.

(The winners in heartbreak.)

“Biology is just stamp collecting” and

You are just biology.

          I am the king that buried the world;

          The only map of his kingdom perfect enough

          (For you) had to be

          Identical.

          I cannot understand you

          Because you breathe.

I only included everything important.

          Everything was important.

Everything squalls and

Everything breathed and

Your soft memory immolates its body beneath my hands.

Rings of ash are black MIDI:

All that is left of bird song.

Phoenix upside—down.

          Pigeon panicking inside an elevator.

          I can know these everythings and never know how they made you (do this).