Saturday, December 10, 2016


Once, I felt these shallow aspirations
dislocating my body

from tomorrow, breathed deep and
supposed I needed to

get somewhere new.
But instead of changing my address,

my tack was—to continue
to stay in the exact same place,

not moving, rarely talking
(and only then in a kind of raspy whisper),

never sitting, but always
standing-up in front

of a desk all day
with my arms held out.

And sure enough,
after a while, everything I could see

out my window on the street
began to look complete-

ly wrong to me—except, I guess,
for the trees.