the blind space of low clouds   the breeze that moves them   over my forehead/third eye   the moon that hangs   half and orange      your letter sits by my bed   rode all the way   tide-twisted from China   heavy in love      your words spring toward   my dreaming dreary brain   I suspend your picture   hand's length from my heart   remind me to recycle   change my underwear   and take in my bicycle   for all of its energies   life's lazy in love      the in and out is active   your letter sticks   to never be resurrected   my hands are glue   the sink is the fun   my hands are glue