if a possum was a bird sign, what would it mean
i love the sound of ice crackling inside a beverage
a poem conscientuous of itself
is life one continuous poem
where did the possum think he was, not
in the sky like a bird, in garbages rather, alleyways and backyard
the fun thing about poems is that you never know when the turn is going to come
as god speaks it is written
he is simultaneous creator and audience
upon discerning the raccoon was a bad sign
i decided to eat a bowl of sphagetti with a cold beverage on the side
the sound of the ice reminded me of a poem
my vote would be that life is a poem before a scientific specimen
but i’ve been known to mess up signs before
i say im writing poetry but really im just thinking fucked up thoughts
browsing through my own loneliness
the opossum was a good sign
gly, rumaging, and running away
like a big cat, almost cuddley
i’m sure it is happy with what it finds in the trash
food, toys, broken pieces of self
his violent seeming playfulness
was telling me about my depression
about darkness when it arrives in a playful form
as when evil takes the shape of something beautiful
life is a poem so it must consist of both good and evil, god and no god
the poem is conscious of it self, the raccoon is just dark and its hair knotted
it finds your trash by nature, not accident
it runs away for a second, then comes back, shining like the absence of day
you kneel, look at its face you feel bad about thinking it was ugly
you move closer, it looks at you, and runs away
and you're left alone thinking about how you did too much
not realizing the sign not realizing how acquainted with darkness you have become
a sign of the darkness within yourself
and you check the alleyway
you check by the sidewalk, you do not check yourself
you think the sign means not to be afraid
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