the joint undoes the thing blue rose

things to do, all
spirits combine in the
rocky hand to make
lists of things, so each
finger will know it is
not alone, working the
fine documentation
of this
being

roads are named,

so
they can be added to
the list that ascends
the grave-
stone, printed granite
against the honed knife-
Time,

rejoice

the
opus of the bent can
the rust melted off the
fender sun, so many
piled in the yard the
cars reach up to heaven
and ache to die again,
this
is
the quandary of the: traveler,

when to rest

when to go-
stop
to
feed
the pigeons,
stop to tie
up
your boat and speak
at the local talent show,
pray, pray, pray, and in
your closet feel the blood
cool in your
vein, what
else

luxuriate in a woman-

action, and evolution, the sweet
growth of
seduction, and then ...
the bones know this
possession from
dusted nothing to key excesses
and the walled
mornings destruction

coming back

to the middle
of the old town,
the traveler
sits or
saddles, talks
the winter
talk in spring, or
the
wolf pack forest, or
talks of the sea
and
only
when
it
rains,

enjoy the fascinations

of
company (?)- oh,
things to do, let the lazy
hand make
lists of
things to do