Cleaning- The scrubbed stars Took all day Like a tub in an old room. Bodies- Now look, a shipwreck of lights Equal to the theater of the universe. Adjectives- Battered, folded Into paper planes Like the unlikely Waist of a green Apple. That’s When I Reach for my Revolver Record- I am looking for a verse. I am standing by the sea, whistling a Saturday morning cartoon theme. I gather a few juxtapositions. Wonder, awe, fear, dissolution, realignment. I am starting a blog of the photos I collect of sidewalk cracks. Don’t Forget- Along with immense size, How infinitesimal the universe is Would make a haiku blush.