TV from
before the
crisis and
maybe knocked

down by the
storm a small
round fluff bird
cries past the

window and
the fat dog
awake now
with eyes wide

Sonnet

with false starts buzzing around my head what do I do do I recall one fly I cut in half with a glass while trying to trap and free it—then sculpt some little line to be stomped bloodless by the sound of boots on the ceiling—so do I then try to persist with this misty I and words like persist—but to speak plainly there is no window in which to speak plainly about a small flower past my boots that I wish could fly into colors that open a window into a land where I could lie…

but now I’m cut in half and half of me
may persist and maybe that I will fly

who birthed
a stone
shining
through cries
broken
picked it
up kiss
kiss put
it down
this white
page still
hates me
no that’s
silly
after
all the
great sea
flashes
stop that
the night
humid
for what
was his
name John
didn’t
he have
a big
something
car and
maybe
I’m wrong
headed
eyebrows
foreheads
who walk
by my
window
why do
they breathe
so close
to me
so pick
up the
white page
try to
forget
the names
swarming
the heat

it’s difficult looking for words to force into little gems (jams?) & not look out the window and write something about this shade of blue sky just before spring

weeks of precious concentration later how to know if there’s anything or a tunnel that collapses with the slightest shake

you want to go back even as you put one foot forward and choose a different color sock hat excuse though it’s best to keep walking and say you started differently

in the end if it lets you step into the dark more easily what would it be like but never mind get back to digging or we’ll never get out

tomorrow is the word you’re looking for which means both hope and hopeless the black of space the restless sun