and once again I’m alive,
seeing the waning light
at the end of the fall;
gaining strength
from rotting leaves,
dying grass,
general decay;
hoping that i’ll survive
while watching everything else die.
decay
strung
poetryi had a dream
your skin was ten times silk
and grabbing you was
like grabbing heaven’s clouds
but it wasn’t true
and you like it that way,
anyway
on my ride home from work
i watched a jogger’s ass as i
passed
by
and thought all these sweet things
that grew stale in the air
and then there was all that decay
around me and
then
i knew its rate
