I didn’t make my brain
but I’m helping
to finish it
Carefully stacking up everything I made next to everything I ruined
in broad daylight in bright
brainlight
This morning I killed a fly
and didn’t lie down
next to the body
as we’re supposed to
We’re supposed to
Soon I’m going to wake up
Dogs
Trees
Stars
There is only this world and this world
What a relief
created
over and over— from We Did Not Make Ourselves, Michael Dickman, The End of the West, Copper Canyon Press, 2009