without crushing the ashes.
Way out in the local wilderness
the only human tracks are mine, left foot
pigeon-toed, aimless.
Trust snow to keep a secret.
Old white soup bowl
chipped like a tooth,
one of us is always empty.
I used to have time by the ass
but now I share it in common
and it’s going away.
These legs
are wearing out.
Uphill, downhill.
They’ll love
their flat earth rest.
Old centipede
can’t keep himself
from leaving.
My dog girlfriend Rose was lost
for three endless days and nights
during which I uncontrollably sobbed.
Fear is a swallow
in a boarded-up warehouse,
seeking a window out.
The brown stumps
of my old teeth
don’t send up shoots
in spring.
In New York
on a wet
and bitter street
I heard a crow from home.
Mouse nest in the toe of my boot,
have I been gone that long?
I haven’t forgotten
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.
