night after comedies...
I make my own life.
somehow I am sweating.
scary up the river to my right.
I miss your stars.
they sit upon shoulders so gorgeous.
you could call them good hills.
arthritis at night,
where do you live?
I live on Traver Hollow Road
with humming birds and grey foxes,
verbs for falcons,
adverbs for nickels,
and mice at night.
it's carefully horrible.
this is forevermusic.
I stand on old checkered tiles,
holding my
neck.