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Poem ("Alone, Jimmy tends to pace himself")
Alone, Jimmy tends to pace himself
in terms of the tiniest dot next to the poem you love in fact the hairs on the heads of the people walking by are not different from last June when you denied yourself all luxury dead, waxen, riotous for something that would be the solution thought out in rows rough as boughs more livid than a compass placed in your back pocket an embarrassing amount of shrubbery in front of your home we first met in September when the wet air was nature's pomade stylized like hills it's time to divide the poem in half the top because you are silent and still the bottom a small breath carrying your packages |  |
