from here I see
a channel in the clouds
right for fish
from here I see
a channel in the clouds
right for fish
dew gathering
in grass—clouds settling
for earth
remembering
barked commands—a calico
chased into my path
brushed
by eyes glancing this way—
so much lies in us
gusts through screens—
the hissing cries of snakes
stirred
your fruit grow—
alveoli—swollen—
air made flesh
busy under
a trash can hood, still searching
for food or home
hammer sounds—
every blow assembling
something imagined
movie projector
bumping along like a road
under tires
how long
can you ignore bird song
beckoning?