what would it sound like
to walk out on the sound
gulls chase
gulls for a bit
that sound
breathing
needles
so I hope for green
through the still black
door to see color to
burst into bloom into
color burst and burst
what thoughts I would have liked
putting them on a shelf or
but what would it sound like
opening my mouth the way
the white heron hides its neck
am I too late
do I keep
taking notes on sheets of ice
the wide green between
peaks the road I’ve
always been
abandoned
houses farms factories
try to look away the turn’s coming
green sun on the grey stone of a crumbling week
April
quiet the new green
stretches gropes
later blisters on the skin
but knows already
what it will
it starts to itch and
one drop clings
to the leaf the ground
takes it all in and
that dog
looking thin like the well
inside me that well
you know
a dusting of green pollen the music inside me now decades old
green leaves
at the bottom of the puddle
this morning
autumn still so green a gleaming fork in the road
green apples words of power for the old computer
traffic update the green streak of a hummingbird
old branches tipped with light green every part of me goes for a stroll
other animals 