Draft: broken front tooth

Now that the sky is too low to escape. 

Always rearrange empty plates 

and books,  deeply stained mugs and loose paper.

Monk’s ballads play over 

another time I need calming

Reminder to miss certain notes

there is poetry then

The business of it. Not me.

why keep it clean when all is so messy 

Would together interlocking ends.

The why is that little ghost I offer

Where you call from

grappling hook words

white streaker on my new pants 

last years journals june-january.

Maybe

I am not awake

Maybe 

 there is enough time after all