Details dance the devil
He forgets every time
The proving of a truth
Is in flipping the dime

Cock your head sideways when they laugh
For they will laugh
At your plumage
Rumpled and quarter-molted
Mind your song
Little heart
Little bird
Flocks or no
You will cross the ocean
Breathing
The song-sigh of little birds

I stretch into the ether
a dog scratching up blanket
pulling up ingrown light
Up, I stretch
And retract
Simulating clam feet
Heartbeat
Mozart

The lemon world
Twisting seeds of speech
I grow into the walls
Tsunami, tsunami
To find my golden bird
You’ve thrown your cape
Through the devastation
Naked roots
Drink

this moon stained day
Adrift in mutters
When I read you
I speak as you
Under my breath
Halting at she’s
As me’s
A mess
Seams
Mesas like buttonholes
I tuck into meaning
As I tuck in my shirt
A scramble of thought
A pattern four holes plus buttonholes
Stop
Stop

A storm man they called him
A summer set
A lasting sigh
Of satisfaction
Yet
To miss him
To miss him…
A nail
To keep the heart from skipping
Town
Folk
Always mix up thunder
And lightning
Another storm
I tell them
When my eyes just won’t set
Another storm
I call him
I call him…
A nail to keep the heart from skipping

Through the crescent moon of nail
I see dirt puzzled in
Puzzling
He told me
You don’t let your heart beat
And I thought
Knot
Your tie please
I can use it to skip rope
Or hang myself in the Attic
As long as you are attached
But then
You let me go

There’s a small tornado in my head
Drawing my eyes inward
While whether or not arguments
Arrange themselves like blocks
For frogger to hop
I
wonder
While you speed read
Eyes half-closed and crossed
What the weather is like up there

There’s an exploded trash bag on the highway
Like glittering fish scales
Crusting in my eyes
Another nap
Frail at this speed
Mirrors become a staple
Can I swing in here
Do I look like I tried
To dodge the remains of the day
In faltering
Lyrics I purse my lips
And hum out hallelujah
Swallowing the time
I’m pregnant with probablies
Probably coming to see you

Then suddenly, not.

Now I know why
You don’t offer explanations for your own poetry
The reader
The listener
Need to put a bit of themselves in the poem
If they don’t
The dragon remains origami