who knows if this design will agree to
finally fly but the caves in
the round curves of the vast rolling
hills of the summer clouds call so
sweetly to the lonely bird in my chest

I lift the pen but why my eyes slide down this poison face

but the sound of a bird I can’t
the glow of the sun
sinking what
else can I say

I waited too long and they’re already cleaning up so I grab some trash and throw it away they tell me to keep moving

when I slept in the forest those long years between research grants

salad days between immunity and editing

people always said I gave up too easily and mostly through song for some reason but that’s really none of my business you see I’m only paid to write these instruction manuals

leafing at monster cello sorry 
it’s these new plant-based teeth
 
and the weight of this uniform from lack of sasquatch in the spring
 
did you see it that time like a flash of silver at the corner of your eye but never mind it was nice to see you again and we really should get together and no that’s OK I have utensils at home