personality: i do my best to scrub it
off with the sweat and dead skin of a good
day’s work, but some trace lingers, like
the smell of chicken in my pee

night-lit city street
car drives over plastic box
dead-dinosaur-sound

sifting with my eyes the tall and seedy
grass that’s overcome the garden
i avoid the thought of how the world would look
were i to make myself useful

habits harden into callouses. callouses
have a way of softening when
a habit’s thoroughly embodied. heart, persistent
soft armature of a life

she said “you look like a tree to me, a tree
with a suitcase” and i admire the trees
tonight, dancing and handsome in the rain, my cardboard
suitcase melting beside me

our story is not
the neatest presence is a
river nonetheless

old hat serves me fine
new hat does too
spring rain, head stays dry
thanks, hat man

friendship inspires poetic feeling, but keeps
the body occupied, away from the desk
friendship is the poetry of two together
the pen is the tongue of solitude