On the telephone for the dead
Which is a shoe–though almost anything serves–
Which is to say I called you with one bare foot dangling
My chair tilted, my eyes turned to the ceiling
I called you and called
To say in life we’re rushed
Ill loved misunderstood
Failing Pleiades and Mozart
Poker games inside our heads
Upping the ante I talked to myself
Dear dead father
Memory rain on the roof
Planet of the Blind 