January 10, 2006


          v. Coda
this is the day I leave
leave the landscape I love
the way lovers love love
watch me how I leave
I have begun to shake
the hours are fleet
yet expansive as at death
I pack one suitcase
the lake plashes and hacks
Canada geese subtract
their gossip from the field
deer evacuate the sumac
their rough thick tongues
sandpaper the distances
they say Don't look back
I leave I look back
--Spencer Reece
Here lies a most ridiculous raw youth, indulging himself in the literary graces that he once vowed to eschew. Now he just rocks out.