soft edges

I know I've lost my charm 

(at least while the spiders
are still in my sleeves)

You say it means nothing

Pages become the soft 

edges of space and I forget

the importance of suicide

How can you be so bitter

with a bedroom so large

How can you still ask what

really went down that summer

Here's the definite answer I know:

Fresh water rippled around thighs

the alders grew whiter and whiter

and the diaphanous hills
echoed no sound at all

Take the billboards down

along the freeway

You can't pray for cash

that has yet to be printed