yesterday I swallowed a solar system, put on my boots, didn’t say goodnight to anyone

from bed, through the window, a rhombus of birds on parallel lines

today I sketched the square roots of my favorite numbers, brushed my teeth, chattered over coffee: I held the umbrella (rain)

I opened a book, I opened two books, then walked the tracks to just outside the city, smoked a joint

belly flops are obtuse with beauty – the swagger of thunder begins in the heels – goldenrod and the last of the tee shirts

tomorrow the hours will wear a cursive necktie into the distance of lost handclaps

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s