381
om
could be part of
my last poem

380
when I die
I don't want
any leftovers

379
with each passing day
forever no longer seems
so far off

378
numbered. . .
every grain of sand
and all my exhales

377
new shoes
the kind you could find
in a coffin

376
sun and moon
for us too
no beginning, no end

375
that knowing silence
between the winter fly
and me