BEFORE I LEAVE
Already I see myself turning into salt
at the doorway of 2005. The country
is blowing up, and the sun is yodeling,
and the air is filled with monarchs.
I am wearing red shoes, studying obituaries.
A dollar bill is floating in the toilet bowl.
Thank you for the marbles, balloons, razor wire,
dreams of mercy. The alarm has been ringing for hours.
Math remains math. I'm not sure if I'm in a signing mood.
Best of luck with your tigers, parrots, horses, serpents.
This time signature is indeed an odd one.
I’ll wear a tuxedo to our next festival of mud.
Shalom. Halleluiah. May your armageddons be fruitful.