there must be something i can write about quick
before i leave, something
that will make it all right-- everything--
you and me, the world-- all of life--
before forgetfulness
spits us out like pips

every final day is also a first one
(there are lots of platitudes like that,
and there are also lots of heads
on the wall, strangled by picture frames,
lots of flocks of wild geese
licked clean by the light)

it's hard to sort it all out, so i won't
even try. i just know one or two things
that are trite but true-- day after day
we leave ourselves farther and farther behind
unless someone really loves us. then there is always
a home to go back to

xanga is not well!  it won't format, even when i switch to programming mode.

maybe later..

dawn comes and i wonder-- shall i don,
or remove, my mask? bending to the sun,
bright feathers catch the wind.