UNEMPLOYED, WALKING ALONE IN TOM McCALL PARK

m51center_hst.

1998

I have come to nothing.

Getting used to winter. Letting go of body warmth
finding my direction in spirals
on surface water
when gravel is kicked into a pool of run off.

Crows fly out from branches in my lungs calling
“Maa, Maa, Maa.”

These words won’t feed my family.

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