...so poetry is all
a scent of berry like a
splash of destiny
which hints at the last
of life...
—Jane Miller
Everything’s falling
apart.
Everything
of me and mine.
Can’t hornswaggle
a thing back.
And
that’s the USA,
right?
No truth
nor beauty.
I lie
to the sky (sky-
ward?) like a
fool, singing
the dumbest
thoughts as
they fall to
the earth.
