“Do you have
a life coach?”—”No,” she said, “I
have a dog instead”
“Do you have
a life coach?”—”No,” she said, “I
have a dog instead”
birds changing
perches—drawing sagging arcs
like telephone lines
the quiet background
jazz he played—gently scrambling
water with his brush
hills like loaves
half-buried in ash, baking
in open air
still stepping
over cracks, mother’s back
long unbroken
passing through
radio waves he breaks—
prow-proud
of all
unreal colors made for me—
you are the kindest
another knife
of light pulled from darkness
as the door closes
new machines trained
to love, their leashes yanked
from your hand
maps don’t help—
don’t transform to rectangles
or split orange peels