There is no escape
but I am. Here on earth. Were I
translucence*
determined (trying)
to try new ways? Try! Try reading.
*Trees
and cloud. Rock homes. The dangers of
frienship. Be
worried about being.
Then, say, life is less sober.
Have a fries and root beer.
Then I throw a celebration
(a poem about Michael’s painting)
and everybody comes.
A season for which I
have to go home tonight,
write to become
glad.
