windrag : poetry : journal

a better one than i would hear the insects 
 with voices quieter than trains, in town, 
 at bedtime. nevertheless, the trainsongs give 
 my heart the kiss of sleep.

note to self: songs that
made me what i am–so few
of them are clever.

distracted. the trees
in my neighborhood are deep
in conversation.

i’ve counted the books

of poems in my house, and the

spiders. good ratio.

i hope that when whoever is buying
accesses my personal data
the message is clear:
i love my people
and i don’t care who knows.