goat eye garden 

spilled the jar of handle bars 
in the garage & closed the doors.
nothing lush is lucrative. if you look
at the side of a mountain long enough 
you can relearn a new productivity.
a garden isn't just to feed us,
it's to witness devouring. the bees
with their mouths full of gigabites
& the hardrive whirling with hoof &
precipitation. then, of course,
the goat eye weeds that blink with 
a portal knowledge none of us are ready for yet.
trows in hand, we planted baby teeth
& marbles. steam powered moon.
dripping ivy. a tomato born from envy.
weeding with the whippets & their
funny little wire bodies. re-charging
the potatoes using the sun. solar energy is so 1600s.
give me a kerosene flower & i'll put it
right in my hair. i'm not affraid of fire.
growth can mean anything in the wrong hands.
a fire once grew from my temples to my forehead.
ash fell on the lawn. there's an epidemic 
of lawns in this town. one after the other.
the wild plants often come to my garden
for refuge. gossip about ordinary & 
drink thimbles of red. challices 
of fresh warm dirt. we stumble hand in hand
down to the horn meadow to pick
our night's skulls. nothing can be done
about the other wheres but here
i can call you through the button hole.
hold like soft tethering. wait for
evening blinking through the brush.
sift in the reeds for yarn. 

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