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ReTReATISe Intheselastworldsbeforethemomentends Iwanttoconfessthegiftsofmymisuse– theholeinthewindwherethedoorgotin– nightsIlivedtopromisebetter,days IsworeallIforgot. Theonlybookinmypoem, thatmeansanything,isonewhereaballoon losesachildandsearchesdyingforit.Hey! Ho! Thecreepisdawning!Anypageant inthebrilliantfaceofmorningcaneye mycapture.MeanwhatIknow? Iwanttothankharvest foreverygod,eachseedandsuckling intoamouthfulgrown. Ineverfortuned wheremyquestionscame.Bedfortime. Thetiredhavegotstarsatlast. 91 ...

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