for
you brother J. W. for you J. and W.
the
sky is here compact like a metal pig-house
under
which we grunt for precision,
but
you, my friend, are free.
and
don’t worry about time – time is the only thing we have;
stop
finding it, just write, love and, yes,
make
something beautiful
like
the sound of this wild boar
caught
jumping through the woods.
