Pulling Weeds
You don’t see me standing around
I say
Small hands pulling grass, not weeds
Sharp September air carries voices
high, tinny voices
They’re right here,
not twenty years from now
deep and away from here
Costume Party
Everything goes away. I don’t think you have to wait for death for your life to flash before your eyes. At many points it happens if you’re paying attention. It happens young and middle age and it’s terrifying. Not spiritually. I genuinely don’t have spiritual fears. Emotionally. Life is short and it’s long, it depends on who you are. One minute I’m twenty writing about the passing landscape from a Spanish rental car from Barcelona to Mardrid and the next minute I'm... When did I start thinking about the end so much? I’d like to say when did I start thinking about time so much, but I’VE ALWAYS THOUGHT ABOUT TIME. Leaving everyone and sitting alone in the cold oversized rocking chairs on Phil’s balcony nearing midnight of some 1990s year writing the date over and over trying to hold on. I suppose what evolves is what I think about time, not THAT I think about it. Or how I think about it Fragile I’ll breathe a last time That time is se
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