January 13, 2010
I don’t believe in writers,
or love, but perhaps this comes
with age. Everyone I know

is having a hard time lately.

How wide the space seems
when there’s no one to help occupy it.
Tell me again,
about the green of the mountains
and how eventually
things work out 
in exactly the way 
they’re supposed to.

I don’t believe in writers,
or love, but perhaps this comes
with age. Everyone I know

is having a hard time lately.

How wide the space seems
when there’s no one to help occupy it.
Tell me again,
about the green of the mountains
and how eventually
things work out
in exactly the way
they’re supposed to.

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