Wednesday, May 19, 2021


There are mornings 
when the very first thing 

is the need 
to have an idea.

And then, 
there are evenings 
where the last idea standing

is the desperate 
need to fall 


I think I need 
to clear my head. 

I'm think I'm becoming
too interested

in the way 
being interested 
generates fumes 

we call "finitude," 
which must then be


How is it 
each day 

feels so far away 
from the last

when really there's 
just that thin stream 

of tedious recap 
dreams in-between?