Without A Belt

we make death

a dishonorable thing.


you ought to be




like nudity.

like pain

or homelessness.

like words

that came out wrong

or pants

that don’t fit

or a sneeze you couldn’t

to hold.


“bless you”

they say,

for keeping up the lie


that restraint beats death,

that you ought to


yourself endlessly.


most go out

without ever letting go

to live.

letting go

to humor.

to humility.



the world stands


it’s always falling.


drop your pants

once in a while.




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