I shot a little bird in my backyard

it was lovely
how she fell as
my heart beat

I moved her to the fence
away from my mother’s path

after I dropped her there
with red trails nestled
between winding palm grooves

I heard small chirps overhead
naked and hungry and young

I threw a black balloon
through the clouds

it floated between
layers of sky

it will pop
eventually;
the sun will melt
its skin

but at least it will
know the sensation
of falling

I kicked an empty can
walking home

it rattled over
loose gravel

I left it on my lawn
dented and scratched

it just seemed so lonely
in the street

Polyamorous triangles float
past galaxies,
across time (da da da)
like some untangled thread,
each strand pulled infinitely
thin.
I think someone said:
we are as much as we try to be,
maybe;
but nothing more.

Triangles trying [to be]
squares, but missing the point –
lost associations, lost
between skull curves and
carbon ***** of tongue
spit (dee dee dee)
flipping bubbles through
air;
singing metal ***-lid banter
and clapping pavement with
rubber footprints;
existing in evanescence to the eye,
quicker, quicker, quicker, you see (la la la)
like time here on a ball
with defined surface area
always moving with each
sneeze and wind breeze.

Rock rocking
like nothing at all
while earthly bodies with
destructive ease never pause to ponder
the grandeur of bland neoteric needs;
god-fearing carbon pumping
earth, exploding earth and
******* in the hot air.

Shaped to fear some carbonic idea;
too geometric to care (da dee la).

When you think of time
as an imagined line
does it move from left to right?

Does it move from right to left?

Or does it extend
from your silly toes?

the slugs are glowing

thoughts of arranging
their fat lives in a
tube of fluorescent light

keeping me up at night

why do the leaves fall in fall?

is the air too thin?
is the sun too dull?

I grew under grey skies
embedded in road-side
yellow and red

I swallowed lowly air
I watched trees
bending in the wind
molded by the rain