Read the previous poem Push onward to the next poem by dragging this pen like a coffin through the middle of griffith park

that I could fall from your fingers so gracefully
that the shards on the tile
could look so choreographed
as well as beautiful and ragged and blue

you want me to sweep it up
but my wrists have lead pipes for their centers
the'yll crack with an inward motion
and I can't afford to break any skin
the scars look ten pounds heavier on stage

and this topic would be exhausted
if I could remember not to chase it
and the itch that creeps sideways
now wants an invitation

muscles tight like you're shivering on the corner at 4am
in Chicago on January 17th
thinking how resolutions never last
but neither do bodies or teeth for that matter

and now my dogs and ponies will pass the spelling bee
and my hands will not cramp up halfway

make them make me refuse the prize
and send up the next big thing to tell the world
what it's like to be the world