Sometimes
I see the letters
of my name
and they look like a word
I never learned.
Run my fingers over it
to feel the ink.
Run my hand over tree bark
and read that life by feel, too,
and through the air
to feel the universe breathing.
This is how I pull
my way along
through
the meaninglessness
that is me.
Meaningless.
Leaves fall earlier
each year. I crumble
them into my mouth
and choke.
