Three years (a collaboration), (poem)

for Nathaniel G. Moore,

dying in the car

None of this is free

Elizabeth Willis, Address

Cluster, of chairs. Proprioceptive. Each day an awakening. You just decide. Akin now to tenderness. Capital girth. What language can claim. I throw you in punches. Elegy, title, a new occupation. Lament, can no longer. Scraps of an anecdote. Affection a knit of this. Light, of shared mental experience. Stretched in the grass. The best wish for New Year's. Nineteen eighty-six. Stitched from their blood. You were the traitor. In the absence of memory, you are correct. Am so much greater than. Intentional, knew. It was stupid like that. Meaning eaten, not born. We caught it on video. Squeezed out of lightening-bugs. Streamed, terrible-like. Hiatus of cardboard, collapsible wooden table. Exist, an unmentionable, unwritten place. The later version of liquid. Adhere, lyric time. New translations of death. My dear immobility. You will not emerge.