Tuesday, March 12, 2024


Finding I'm faced 
west at sunset 
and alone, I understand 

how the only 
things I've ever owned 

are the failures, mistakes, and 
which have plagued me—

how they all staggered 
after me, like the undead 
in a horror film, 

with hands stretched 
when I tried to ditch them;

each so sincere 
in its resolute faith 

that its clever machination
could spring me 
from the present jam;

and all of them 
correct (despite their 
grave miscalculations) that, 

despite my refusal 
to let them 
touch my skin, 

it has always been 
my running from them 

which has brought me 
where I am.