the blind space of low clouds

the breeze that moves them

over my forehead/third eye

the moon that hangs

half and orange



your letter sits by my bed

rode all the way

tide-twisted from China

heavy in love



your words spring toward

my dreaming dreary brain

I suspend your picture

hand's length from my heart

remind me to recycle

change my underwear

and take in my bicycle

for all of its energies

life's lazy in love



the in and out is active

your letter sticks

to never be resurrected

my hands are glue

the sink is the fun

my hands are glue