cleaning, packing, detach.

time to pull and reel the fishing rod back now. let's
call it a day.

let's take the poetry down
from the walls.

let's throw out those cards
illegibly signed from long ago.

those paper plates and bowls
with your name at the top

"The sweetest SIDEKICK AWARD
so supportive,

"so spacey...
what would we do without you?

"FALL 2007"

"The light of our lives
(and the light of our light side)

"spring 2008"

"COLD
BLOODED

MOFO
Fall 2008"

"the rainbow
brite award

"for being the person
that we'd least

"like to find
rainbowed...

"s
p
r
i
n
g

2
0
0
9"

and here are some words
i wrote before

no, please
it's an honor to kiss
your feet now
echoes of your tickling laughter screams
won't you follow me now
that you can't
leaves i'll let fall on you
your last sounds
muffled in the layers
of dead things


then

fear of  [there is a hole]   infinity
            [in the paper here]
matter/antimatter
poets don't know anything
we can only live to
120 years.
the last time i saw a
rooster it didn't
cross the street.


you cannot erase me now
bug bites--constellations
                on her legs


then


the opposite
of water is
certainty or
safety
a fearless steadiness
in the too hot embrace
of life,
love
without even trying
to hold it all together.


then

it's always 
nice to think
about spring
she says
the cars refuse to listen
heavy zooms
heavy mute.
in the park
we grow old
it's fall now.
dry leaves lightly
sink
into gravel


then

the names of places
i wanted to go to on friday

then

her head
on a puppet string
up and down like
a doll's dance gone wrong
he turns
hoping to speak after
catching her eye &
attention
but really, it's late
again
she's gone


in new york

then

these are going
into the trash bag.