Monday, March 26, 2012

The luxuries.

For JW, who once rode a horse into an electric fence.

I have finally made myself happy,
Watching a bird land

On a wooden lamp.

There's a writing desk with some papers feathered across the top,
Which--and beneath its shadow,

Lies a sleeping brown dog.

I have achieved my own variable record--and the riches in
The window are all wan and hungry to me.

I need never ache to join the half-blind path of the others,
Nor to be young like before.

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