hey, thelast letterof thelast wordof thelast sentenceof thelast paragraphof thelast pageof thelast bookof thelast librarywould liketo saygoodbyebut alasthe endis nigh

like the flyat thewindowdoes notunderstandfree passageis a gift &not a givenwe beat ourwings againstthe other’swords awaitingatmosphericchange

the black dog settles on my chest;my heart thrums a gallows beatthrough open windowed dark—stars look away with each breathtrees exhale in moon-rushed exultation(if there is sleep, let sleep come;if there is dream, let dream overwash;if there is silence, let silence breakagainst the wall […]

dancing but fallingfluid muscle memoryacross time & spacemoving but failingflailing we glidethrough each daya hundred thousandmisdirections ofleft feet firmin unbelief stridingsomewhere self-assured but wonderingthe worth of movementaround a sun steadilydimming despite ourhallelujahs & hosannahs

every once & again when a sigh escapes & someone thinks you farted instead just own it & carry on carrying on

whatever pigeons wantlet them have—which is to saysometimes giving upis the best optionespecially ifyou’re carrying aroundloaves of bread

months long sunbreaks & slidesacross sky pan& the fog &funk rise togreet us inbeds split bysweat-slick sheets& look there’s not much tosay except sorryabout the garagedoor & heydid you everbuy any plums?