it wouldn’t have been as stunning,
the sun in it’s witness.
it would have been cunning
if the wings coyed flightless.

but a cloud blanketed today,
a lost ambition within bare arms,
black waiting water her
fascination’s prey.

the smell of seagrasses,
the smell of foulness,
life leaving room for death’s anchor-

the spurned sun.

if it weren’t for you
I’d kept away.

if it weren’t for you
I’d remembered

to keep in-between being
wet and melty and
forsaken.

a driving car
with me in it
and driving.

the racing trees,
the dripping river
frozen, trying to

thaw.

on a night where
the moon seems
to follow me.

my hands on
my thighs,
the wheel drifting,
the glossy black
road,
the salt on my doors,

on a night where
the moon seems
to remember me.

it sat on the chain link fence
fenced outwards in aired

blue bird striped
stressed on points

on points red bird
blue bird bounced

against bodies blue
bird pushed red bird

demon bird
my bird
on the street
off the fence
away from cars

stay for winter.

when it hops it hops.

a wiry puppet
strung together and
painted green and black.

when it hops it hops.

a cringed waiting face
a scrunched holding space
my soft hand holds her.

when it hops it hops.

her cold, slimy legs
her wet, filmy knees
her yellow white eyes.

when it hops it hops.

now maybe she stops.
I want her to stay.
In my wanting hand.

Do not cringe, my frog,
I had hoped for you.
In my hoping hand.

rocking in my
fishing boat

a red skeeter
twelve feet

a hundred fifty
horsepower

a blue Coleman
cooler at my feet

the sun on
my face

the graphite rod
at my side

the worms left
in the car

the sun on
my face

we got sick,
we got hungry.

the cows went for water
the chickens ate each other

but I looked for you Malthus
are you happy now?

its bad,
get it over with,
this will take too long.