Facebook tells me she’s leaving Lisbon. 

Like you the heat comes on hissing. 


It’s raining. 

Things in the back yard 

are getting ruined. 

Let them be. 

Lose track of the things 

in the yard. 


If you’re one of those people 

who carries the weight of the world on her shoulders, 

it’s kind of incurable, 

except in the presence, maybe, 

of the right cat. 


I don’t know. 

What’s the way to discover the soul, 

a hide for the men to tan, 

except sitting back 

and letting the world vote on it. 



“I’ve been reading the Confessions of St. Augustine,”

Man who is only a small portion 

of what you have created. 

was how I started conversation

at the mixer for creative advertising professionals.


For thine is the power and the power

Forever and ever,

oh man.