How a fuchsia blouse becomesbougainvillea, ora pair of greyhounds staggersinto abstraction, zigzag
Primitive angiosperm, genus prior even to bees,
When the fledgling fell from its nest, by meager attempt,by pinwheel descent,and lay, unguarded,
Famously late, light reaches useons past its own extinction,
Vendors approaching men withwomen, holding out a solo rose, long-stemmed
Early mystery,out of what century
In a nondescript hotel in East Texas, I fellin love with a couple. There in the dim
hallway with rugs that were clean enoughbut darkly patterned to hide the stains so who knows,
her back was against the wall, her arms up and aroundhis neck...
the hive swells outsideas its residents itch to lick our inner walls
for moisture and respite
I am the man in the play-ground, the cord of his earbuds
clenched in his teeth(bit in a horse’s mouth)
if this city is still breaking me in with its weather and tethered eye
you be the arch in my neck the mane growing from it