Thursday, April 30, 2015


The Chinchilla Carpet

The harder the grasp, the
looser the hold.  Is it too
slippery or is it just me?
Would it matter if it were?

This is what I was thinking
as the ship set sail from the
harbors of Puerto Vallarta.
And this is what I think—

if think can be agreed upon
as these occasional flashes
that brighten an ever-expand-
ing void—as I lie here upon

what is certainly my deathbed,
my crippled fingers slowly but
spastically scribbling down—
for you—this one last line.