chicken roost

the following are responses to poets who are long since dead but who sometimes answer me during long nights that it is okay, keep showering, eating chips from a grizzly bag, and reading for there will always be death and in it, poetry and the chipped showers of reeds from those lived days.

*

two roads diverged

in a yellow wood

and i felled my own

between

*

so much depends

on a red wheelbarrow

but so little depends

on the son beaded

with sweat

who carries

the colour

of days laid

*

quoth the raven

nevermore

until it flies away

and there is

more nevers

to never

and quote

*

to be or not

to be

that is the answer

to a much bigger question

of what it means

to to

which a ballet dancer knows

without saying anything

but allowing her frame and skull

to move

*

our father

who art in heaven

and who could do more work

here but some dads

just leave like my own

which i suppose

can’t be helped

for he was copying

your image