Amidst this haste and filth

beside river's black violin

its sluggish summer tune

should I tell you how

you hide the dead

without singing

Dear Ungovernable Lament

Are you like a log

abandoned on a road of young trees

Or is your life a stone

smashed

to bits

About the one of yourself

and the one of the one

that is not you

but is the memory of what you wanted

I have only this to say

how is your life with an image

Or has your memory started fading

until what you can pry loose

from the sea

is an island

etched in blue smoke

Dear Steam

How is your life with a stranger

from this world

the one we once walked in

argued over

and tried to burn