The birds are
A bloody nose,

A bowl of
Crumpled paper
On fire,

Washed ashore
Having dreamed of whales.

A slight asteroid belt
For a fever
Will last a few days.

As the years go by
On some nights
You can see
A subtle scaffolding around the sun.

To catch a
Shadow,

You’ll need duct tape,
A tripwire, and
A mirror.

And like a dream, some of the words- I don’t know which ones.