i used to walk backwards.
and give away homemade poems.
i said less for years.
now i sing.
on folded paper naive praise
for the legs of the universe.
i used to yearn zigzag.
saving myself from employment.
ankle laughter at the roots.
november helicopters in the air.
now i fall forward
gathering up the body slams of dusk.
such pillows that are fire
are for this head.
