i scratch the names
of dead men
into my bed posts,
took up the habit
of sleepin'
with ghosts,
i dress the part
well, a madcap
black-n-white
beatnik baby
w/ a backpack full
of weightless dreams, light—
so full of light
i draw
fish
they swim
halfway cross pond
just to make a ripple
in the water,
justa catch
a glimpse
