contrast poem This time last year was the first time we shirts intersecting into each other slid together, I think through oxygen. You wore the type of white dress that for every pore of you has its perfect correlation in time and space and numbers i would periodically undress you with. I'm imagining your skin fall down I'm hurtling through your throat right now i'm thinking of an image file i can dress you in. I sat outside for circa seven hours today repeatedly understanding time and space, how cold air forms itself around you, how your thumbnails fold and curve through oxygen, how that oxygen falls on me. how you're in a different windowed room right now in a different way the subject of this