"John Aspen"

it is years
fastened to this task

screever of the cloud-shadowed hours
my love for you is the sidewalk beneath

and such perfect days
if only they were without knowing

fifty dollars a week on gas
i read maybe one book a month

the backstreets, deserted,
i try to imagine our starting over in

one more self-published chapbook
one more offering to the void

her life my life and our life together
three stars at fixed distances

and maybe it will all work out
each of us finding our place in the emergent pattern

i dread the future like an avalanche
i stand watching poised and rustling above us


Everclear at Guantanamo. (via Cursor)


"Was it Earthquake or tobacco,
Day of Doom or Night of Drink?"

--Kipling