I forget it’s not summer and
my sigh is heard on the moon and
reflects on the crowd of spectacular
spirits once upon a who I loved long
and ago and will wait only so long
before buzzing back to better or
beyond though I never had much or
succeeded with stories that seemed so smooth
for other faces but what I mean
is the sun gets sick of all this rot
so here take this half-quarry and build
without instruction or sleep or slap
up the usual hiding hut with clean
paper and fresh pins for lines post-collapse
Tag: sigh
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Sonnet In Which the Last Two Lines Have Shipped But Are Running Late
do you clap when it arrives in crumpled
corrugated cardboard dropped on the steps
of your demand and expectation—me?
I long to hear the soft song of
the box cutter the little sigh
as light uncovers the gifts of darknessbut enough of my many weaknesses
let’s upgrade our kitchens hats and bookshelves
lounge in the recycled air gulp supplements
unthinking of the debt and folks living
in fire and try to laugh since we never
got the hang of writing protest songs
other animals 