Black ink
runs smooth
down the pages
into my cupped hands
for clean washing


A stain on your blue shirt collar
runs down
the front buttons
I don't care


smooth it does glide
but broken it will spill
I sense the clock
one minute late



the pavement is chipped
at the crossroads
of right and left
do you doubt me?



My dirt road
My dark breeze
My dead log
My black hand



do you doubt me?
I doubt you
I doubt the red stain
on your high pocket



it dripped on my shoe
I just bought
now might you explain
your lifeless stare?



I dare you to sit by me
touch my fall coat
and i'll hand you a leaf
red as the stain
on your high pocket