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.