It’s raining in october, always has.
The clocks have grown
traces of rain inside them,
while the rusted hands try to move.

I have loved to stand still.

Who was I, if not this man counting
how many shoes there are,
just how many ways there are
to put on shoes, and walk
out of them, one pair by one.

Running together down
the market aisle, they’ve brought in
my face replicated as a jelly mold.

That’s one face i’d like to wear.

But not today, for today is my birthday.

I planted a tree when I was five, and
now the tree is taller than me. I feel like
I was five and now the tree knows
my exact age,

There must be a forest
somewhere where we all
go when we know
the number of the one tree ...