Spring '13 TOC
You can go nuts trying to nitpick your
Way through details (like hard won tenacity)
Last night someone knocked over a trash can
Sending it halo-ing through the courtyards
Across the ice underneath the razor stars
I couldn't sleep after that, thumbing through
The shreds of a dream I would've completely
Lost if not for that son of a bitch who
Went his way whistling drunk wanderlust
– for myself the already jagged knife
Had lodged shards into the apparatus for
Worrying - thoughts no one can ever piece
Together, or inscribe into the mud of those
Spider-silk delicate roots that bind the soul
::Next::
