But if we drink bitterness and can transmute it and continue, we resume in candour and doubt the only individual joy—the restored necessity to learn.
       —Thomas Kinsella, from ‘Wormwood’

[for Husain]

an empty glass     a shot of green     a spoon
a sugar cube     cold water     cloud

wormwood + anise = sweet oblivion
death in a glass
gift

I am afraid
—I admit it—
though it is not finality
I fear but repetition

I could ask for nothing more than a recipe
            give nothing more than an edge
upon which to sharpen despair

these days all I think of is endings
final     all too probable
                                                       celebrate birthdays
                                                       announce anything new until it is old
this is why I no longer                    garden
                                                       use full stops

remember
when the cloud swallows you
as you swallow it
to forget about
                cycles and
                circles and
things that never end

never choose
between death and duplication

green angel, guardian
though nothing can be outrun
be fleet of foot

keep moving    keep moving    keep moving