moonlight in the kitchen.

Moonlight in the kitchen is a sign of my grandmother’s graceful demise.

The kind of sadness that a black suction pipe extracting you
from your own belly button
and which the Buddhists call
“no mindcover” is a sign of sexual despair.

The blind alleys that run alongside human conversation
like penny arcades situated in old run-down beach towns are signs that we might overcome.
My own calmness is a sign that I might never get well.

The surprisingly cold smell of potatoes or money.
Solid pieces of silence.

From these different signs you can see
how much work remains to do.

Put away your sadness, it is a mantle of work.