By | 12 May 2004

not everything comes when its supposed to,
a feeling of open-endedness

three days threat of rain, just
sick of it when it comes

he holds his head & squints, william hurt
in until the end of the world

the metal windmill rusts the field,
& hasnt turned an age

the memory of tire swing

when hannah was three fingers old,
now three plus a day

strewn presents follow suit, yellow wrapping
in the yard

do not believe anything i tell you
abt narration

we drive a drink past mulligans,
& it rains it rains it rains

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