sand – other animals

how do I hold this pen that winks

and becomes a tree trunk

what question would you have me ask

the mice in such a rush

when they start to talk about you

you’ll wish it were blossoms

with just a grain of sand to carve

but it won’t come to that

before the day when the day if
but today
let a song slip through your fingers
find that last breath
barreling toward some release but
the sand in your
shorts the ice cream begins to melt
for a second
you forget that this is the way
the world moves and
that’s not
quite it either there was a kind
kind of light maybe
it falls and smalls and
smaller the world
spins people go
to parks interviews
you hear a voice
but the words garbled
maybe with a
little work but
that’s how it all
starts again freed
from one hole
you fall in another

I am a dog walker I am cooking beans I am the misprint in the formula I am heavy snow at night the scrape of the plow I am bored and ashamed of my boredom I am eating cashews pecans sunflower seeds I am a deer of seven tines I am the sluggish pulse I am a new sound in the deep forest just once I am an empty bag of highly flavored corn chips by the off ramp I am the mistake that leads to greatness I am a wave breaking on dark rock I am a wave breaking on sand

one could choose to count the grains of sand on this or any other beach but as we have but each other to ride out our sundry troubles perhaps let us order in

The New Sound

those faithful plants I neglected still shelter my [redacted] even after the party is long gone the conversation buried in coarse sand

you mentioned that the fashion this year will be nothing but zippers and mismatched shoes so leave me out of it and let me sleep in the sweet green morning calls dropping dew

but at my back I sometimes hear Noel Fielding reciting bad poetry in my ear and

perhaps the goal is to write something that no forget it yes I see you noticed it too but went back to your puzzle so thanks for that

sand poured in the lungs. Though the auditorium was immaculate