uh

me when the shape in the middle of the road that I’ve already started pre mourning as roadkill turns out to be a shoe

Later, it becomes February, and even later, spring returns, (…) I recognize the business of summer, which is to forge ahead, delicately. So I dip my fingers among the green stems, delicately. I lounge at the edge of the leafing pond, delicately. I scarcely remember the crust of the snow. I scarcely remember the icy dawns and the sun like a lamp without a fuse. I don’t remember the fury of loneliness. I never felt the wind’s drift. I never heard of the struggle between anything and nothing.

Years go, dreams go, and youth goes too, the world's heart breaks beneath its wars,