I am not a guide
for every traveler
of loss.

Should have found a job by now; should have slept in the night;
should have boiled old coffee before noon.

Mostly he ate what was put on his plate
snuck coffee grounds or dirt for a snack
Once a zipper Unzipped

I myself should never have been born

Even as the sun warms the concrete
the long nights’ sensual cold lingers in my clothes.

Gravel-scatted hell &
we were blessed to be able
to hold on for even a heartbeat

I don’t
know why
I’m in the garden
kneeling on dirt

Even from this distance I could go out
the door it would bang shut and crumble

I have an axe
with hearts gashed

Part of being a good sad person
is always painting the shadows
in the right direction and knowing
what sorrow to art with.

We stop doing dishes while
a mile unwinds
from the tree outside.

Try not to see your own predicament in every fucking thing.

Ma wrings
a wet world
of colors

my friends’ fathers are
dropping
I mean dying
like flies

It recommended
soft porn, as gentle prodding and petting parent
to parent might calm and soothe the kid.