If I could, I would grant 
you your self-evidence. 
Let it be known that there is 
nothing left to look for. 
Let the scolding stop and steam
off in a bucket.


The world has been big 
this whole time, even as we 
push its corners beyond 
themselves. Even through last 
night’s horror and the day 
before. It remains big. 
You were born here 
and did not leave. 


Here, you could wave 
like a flag on a high building. 
You could have the same 
brush with infinity 
once a month, 
and you could go to work. 


Each morning, something woke you.
You awoke. Once, a performance hinted
at perfection. You got on stage 
and drank beer among the actors.
Happiness collapsed into 
wood and bottles. 


Each day, light seeped anywhere it could.
It touched you, your face, 
it held you.