the world plays jazz when you’re quiet
October 3rd, 2024
Ancient Chinese symbols fog up the mirror.
Freud not yet born or else still musing
across the bathtub at his lovely mother.
Black lace drapes the white window.
The crickets slow down like they’re
running out of batteries. The I Ching
rolls in the corner pocket. One last
fly backflips from the ceiling.
The machines clink and halt
and come to a rest. If you listen
you can hear the sighs of the dead.
Lose yourself in the season’s first breath.
hey bro!
how you doing?
when we gonna have that beer or coffee?