Number 5

my mother told me

when she went to the funeral of her dear, lifelong friend after the eulogy and before they let her down two men approached the coffin and stripped off the handles for the pallbearers, and gathered them into a pile nearby i thought it was the cheapness that bothered me, (but they're right the coffin will never be carried again) it's the finality.

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six birds fly the form of freckles near your mouth i knew that you were the face of god that the sky was there for reading


god told me to get a haircut i was looking for my haiku about winter i dream i am already at work between the cars of the train a single flake of snow i have to write some of this shit down


i want to taste the female flavoring in your skin in your mouth to begin writing place the tip of the pencil at the top left corner of the page the last time i got my hair cut my mother was alive