partial sonnet (you decide which part)

i get on a plane without any wings.
it is really just a flock of pins. plant me 
in the ugly place. i wish i could fix the world
for you. isn't that what love is?
the sewing bags from goodwill complete
with thimbles. i fill one with honey & milk
& we go bury our beautifuls underneath
the long neck tree. i don't need a car.
i don't need a gun. i just need a finger's length
of licorice & a sliver of moon. they say that
if you want to be a poet you need to have
a command of language. i would disagree.
i think you need to bend over & let the
consonants do what they want. i used to make
money by being a pilot for empty planes.
we would fly over the hole in the map 
where all the unfulfilled milkshake orders go.
get wild on heavy cream & gas station roses.
maybe one day i'll try to get real formal.
apply to all the poet things & take professional
faces to show the world. for right now
all i have is a favorite spoon & the birds
who come to pay their respects. i tell them,
"i'm not dead you know?" they reply, "yet."