the fish, Elizabeth Bishop, Donald Palm, and me.

addendum:

Donald Palm has died.

the fish, well it’s dead, too.

so’s Elizabeth Bishop.

maybe I am as well.

you should read this

upon my demise.

it’ll all make sense.

it takes time to make

sense of complex things

like life and death

like hanging from a hook

like gumming your last

meal of mashed potatoes and carrots

or penning poems

through the night

until they’re finished

by sticking the ending.

but like I've always said: don't agonize over it.