as a switch
of a light pointed
down. But I can sprint
off as a greyhound tracking

the scent of a rabbit or
a racing horse
at the post after lifting
the fence. I'm off course
and off my rocker. But don't you

knock me off my blocker! I'm off
duty. Some say I'm off,
that I'm just fruity! I run off
at the mouth. And men don't like

my offhand comments. They often
say it makes them *****. I’m off
center, and off the mark.  And if
it suits me I'll blow you off!

into pieces with jagged sides
like bolts of lightning till every piece
flies through every closed window,
every raised flue. Going to shoot the moon

till it breaks like a plate. Drop all the bone
china into the night like snowflakes till
it cuts their hands, their faces, their eyes. Till
they swallow the shards like a huge pizza-

pie. I'm going to bounce the sun like
a basketball. Let the bombs fall over trees,
homes and stalls. And every cloud covers
this earth like a red linen shroud. I've spoken

with thunder. Took every man's face
and pasted their blunders. Drove every
stone into hail till it’s rubbed into their
fingertips and they read it like braille.

as a buoy.
Every wave that passes
fogs up his glasses.
Arms flapping

as a bird. Everything
he says is slurred.
Legs swinging back and
forth, all the way from south

till toes pointed north.
Fingers strumming
his armchair. And that stare
hanging in the air

like smoke
from a cigar inside
a tight lid jar. I remember
September, I lost him
in a tremor.

a fledgling
dawning as the sun
selling everyone
with my melodic song

puffing out my red breast
flapping my feathered wings
trying to impress
the bonny spring

trying to soar
like the osprey
lift off this grassy floor
with no man

to teach me
so, I'm robbing
like a bee
out of amber honey

and bobbin to the beat
of car horns
in the ***** city street
a baby bird is born

in the wind, an orange leaf
caught in the swirling breeze,
ejected from the trees like a snot
from a sneeze. She hung

in the air, dancing soap
bubbles before they pop and
disappear. She blended
her colors, the white

with the reds and stood
out, a pink carantion
with pointed petals that
spread. She rolled off

a morning dewdrop,
****** up by the razor
sharp tongue of a mother
squirrel and her naked young.

the rat-a-tat-tat
branch against the glass
outside the window
the wind blows
the clawing and scraping
the knocking
his mouth gaping
clocking the lighted numbers
beside his bed
the pulsing and thunder
inside his head
sweat running along his brow
belly churning like a mama cow
heart pounding like a hammer
the sounding and clamor of her calls
night precipitously falls like a guillotine
it throws and turns him as a washing machine
outside the rat-a-tat-tat
like nails on the chalkboard
she's the scratch

my skin like an orange
sliced me in pieces
with a paring knife
squeezed out the juice with a syringe
cut back the hanging fringe
dropped the rind in a glass of gin
smiled that smile, his crooked grin
and swallowed
after he hollowed me -
He spit out the seeds.