The sun sits
Barefoot in the April snow,
Picks up flames and learns the geometry
Of turn and spiral, heliotrope and new wing,
Wears the highway for perfume.
The sun is no bigger -I swear-
Than your bare feet in the April snow.
poem
Wind Road
wind road
sandwich
lone bite
it’s raining miniature golf courses
it’s raining
miniature golf courses
and it’s pouring
on an old house
you’ve never
seen before and the way
it rains on it
is interesting
clouds are the racket
and tennis is everywhere
naïve haircuts 