no, man

they were waiting for you to leave

no such thing as a

per'n who doesn't love

or play or sing

or *something*

god

"What I'm getting at is that there's not really much in between the two. And while you may not think about it like that anymore, if you ever did in the first place--but that's beside the point--even if you never did, that's how I think about it now. Because love has changed for me. The way it feels, the way it makes me act, have changed. And maybe it's something to me, now, that you no longer recognize. That's all I mean."

What would you

have thought

of those raspberry

huts?

tumbledown rock

tombs we walked

hours into the

misting falls

for the first

time it felt

good to remember

old mirror presents

human I resent,

horror;

one, only event-

ful choices repent-

ed, or

twice I'd've been sent

pouring heaven's bent,

towards her

Scared of the taste of

Ripstik on glass.

Distracted, basting a

button-mash class,

mad dash for the door.

I think we should leave;

outside there’s a floor,

butane rain watering more

westerly winds than we’d

catered before. In the canoe,

You wiggle and wobble, lose

a new shoe. Almost, you

topple. Sinking through ink

by a sponge’s hovel, he

screams, don’t let go!

But you have already let go.

I hold a moon in my hand and wish upon it:

May we remain when the last needle falls.

Listen to that woodpecker;

can you hear the wind? All over

these acres, lives

begin.

A sentence is served,

and copied word for word. And

if we search with feverish

thirst, I think we’ll find

a third.