i used to see trees like collages of orphaned song bird wings.
waved back & said "hello, how is your darkness today?"
i always keep mine in jam jars & in shadows drawn long as ladders.
my hands & their separate lives. little monsters.
we were standing in a parking lot & i said, "oh my god
the clouds have edges." throwing a telephone out the window.
once your face was a pie crust. another day, a drowned woman.
you held my hand so i would not wander off & become
a stop sign. i have a tendancy to spin towards the practical.
i love a good rule if it leads to a rhythm. the sun spits
on my shoes. the moon's thumb prints are all over my life.
i can't believe how many eyes a dandelion has. all of them
used to just be blurred beards. now, the colony. the seekers.
when i walk out into the day like this, i know i am
going to see roadkill. little smudges on the edges of a picture.
i live inside a flip book. thumb daggering forward.
the frog is a slipper. the roadkill is a rusted bicycle.