moderation

ii.

there are no clouds in the sky

so i will sit on the porch. inhale

fresh air and tiny magic

masked in the scent of mildew

rotting wood. i can’t be

sober at night. i can’t be loved

if i can’t figure out the

meaning of leaves changing

colors, seasons moving on,

time passing and amassing.

iii.

You say it’s

flavored like frankincense/

gold/

myrrh. smoke and

live forever and ever.  i wish

we knew moderation.

You could make

white cotton

appear in the sky.

it’s grey now.