WHAT FUN IS THIS the best-tied shoes and most normal digestion blackest night for claiming tire tracks not your own you stumbled into bed with the best of them the covers trampling you like horses turning away from the door leaving your house to burn raise one hand like a balloon with no thoughts in it miracle of flame miracle of dawn that makes a charred wreck of the night my poor wild mouth you have galloped through the soup and (by the back door) out of the house built for you by the judgment of generations alone freezing on the road the ditches have parasites the shelters are full of danger there is no time like the present and no blackened bones coming up in your driveway review what has been required and place it beside you like a kitten later babe later or is it later even now