(to woofie)
i had a dream and frank o’hara was in it.
and he told me
to send you that poem
because
that poem
well, it was really an avatar
of an olive leaf
deeply green and
falling from a tree
and of living my life
under free association
and living as variously as possible
leaving little left
but leaves and
leaves and leaves of grass
but you plus what with all
my quitting smoking
my impossible exhibition
finding gainful employment
and
god-knows-what-else maybe
a life in the town
a life in the country
where there are leaves and they fall
brightly mute and colorful
and they fall
so i fell
like a leaf
slow and twirling
spinning with
my axis on a tilt
and i tried to take you with me
but you are like some monolith from a bygone era.
still and unwilling to succumb.
if only i could take you with me
in my vestpocket
wherever
we may go.
