I am an evasive soul
with resentment
from love
maybe lost or left out
in the cold car port.
I die each night
with waking taste
of blackberries,
carrying myself
to myself.
I never married,
but I have value
in entrances of demons,
dumb savages,
clogged ears, etc.
on a plane to cleveland
I lost control
and let it all go,
by thought of Kendra Jean
and mean youth.
as virulence shatters
I come to in the Cinncinatti airport
on the Kentucky side
of the river
and give up in mortal sweat.
January is a giant mask,
adored by fears,
feared by adorations,
but the sun looks good
and Florida is teaching me again to travel.