I lived and loved and lost it all
In just a single day.
I began anew and watched it fall
In a not-peculiar way.
For, you see, I've loved before
And seen it wash away,
So wherefore shall I try once more
In maybe one more day.

I have a scratch

between the shoulders

I seek a cedar post

sun splintered warm

upon which to soothe my spine

                                                        
S­liding down, then sideways

across old sintered ribs

I leave bits of myself behind

                                                        
Like horse hair caught in the grain

or an unfinished poem--words

left after my leaving

fair for any bird to claim