oberambergris

(cookie portrait of "lorenzo" by stacy chandler)

Number 8 wire.

This useless trace i leave upon the earth
invisible to some, unseen the rest,
is all that keeps me sane, as from the first.
Of all the ways men fritter away their breath
i choose the airest, leanest, scatterest sleight.
They say it's sometimes steel an isopleth
& one evasive to the usual scythe;
i seek no such reward, nor hazard that bet.
What i can imagine might befall my words
belongs with dreams of how we ought to live.
Since listeners are more than we deserve
the sooner these, as their smug sire, be rid:
not for themselves, but for the gain, runs love.