.

i dream of my obituary
being printed on the pages
of every magazine known

full of praise
and a tragic eulogy
of what the world
had missed

pity,
he could have stopped
the icebergs from melting

.

the toe doesn't decide

what the rest of the body does

but there's a kind of democracy

a firefly doesn't illuminate

a sunken heart

but i'm sending you this

.

i expect the rice

to be perfectly cooked

if i'm going to have to

beg for it

.

hell-o-wean this year:
no trick of treat
just random strangers
ringing at my door
pleading

a map

endure
the lack

ignite
dysfunction

believe
in reasons

assume
control

do
the drill

.

'only if you were an ordinary kid,' he said

as if he had had nothing to do

with what had become of me

and maybe that was

exactly so

.

o moon, tonight
the soup is thick
and the doves have gone
i'm sitting here by myself,
wondering

please tell me
was there ever
such thing
as point of return?