hey, the
last letter
of the
last word
of the
last sentence
of the
last paragraph
of the
last page
of the
last book
of the
last library
would like
to say
goodbye
but alas
the end
is nigh

like the fly
at the
window
does not
understand
free passage
is a gift &
not a given
we beat our
wings against
the other’s
words awaiting
atmospheric
change

the black dog settles on my chest;
my heart thrums a gallows beat
through open windowed dark—
stars look away with each breath
trees 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 break
against the wall of night)

dancing but falling
fluid muscle memory
across time & space
moving but failing
flailing we glide
through each day
a hundred thousand
misdirections of
left feet firm
in unbelief striding
somewhere self-
assured but wondering
the worth of movement
around a sun steadily
dimming despite our
hallelujahs & hosannahs

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

whatever pigeons want
let them have—
which is to say
sometimes giving up
is the best option
especially if
you’re carrying around
loaves of bread

months long sun
breaks & slides
across sky pan
& the fog &
funk rise to
greet us in
beds split by
sweat-slick sheets
& look there’s
not much to
say except sorry
about the garage
door & hey
did you ever
buy any plums?