basho's ride
night-lit city street
car drives over plastic box
dead-dinosaur-sound
night-lit city street
car drives over plastic box
dead-dinosaur-sound
sifting with my eyes the tall and seedy
grass that’s overcome the garden
i avoid the thought of how the world would look
were i to make myself useful
habits harden into callouses. callouses
have a way of softening when
a habit’s thoroughly embodied. heart, persistent
soft armature of a life
she said “you look like a tree to me, a tree
with a suitcase” and i admire the trees
tonight, dancing and handsome in the rain, my cardboard
suitcase melting beside me