viola, tricolour

the robin tree

no one talks about what is left

when destiny has been fulfilled

holding a syringe full of creek water

one holds onto the ashes

and no longer knowing



I saw a tree filled with robins this morning

la glaneuse

creatures

what pleasure is left to the heart with its meaty blobbing in the chest

a burning mailbox key fixated cloud drams of decanted night

dirty under leaves with my eyes vast open toward the sky of

branches into me like the last I never made it to the creek


piny drinking that water full of silt under bony sycamores that

change large-scale in the scented morning like bird-filled rooms

up and down

aimlessly otherwise

when i am lacking soup

and flat tires

love dirt

sidewalk

historic squirt juice

heart of grass

like finding something shiny in the woods

candy

I hate those little candies, they taste like

two sweet Easter Bunnies kissing Raggedy Ann

has nothing to do with the ''I just like you as a friend''

candy fart wreath Buhbye thing underwater

hearts of maine

note to self

this particular shaving brick from the icy trunk

bangor (maine)

versatile grapefruit bears exploring

room 239

pairs

black
black
the

stone

in the airplane the voices are very clear

but I am without my amphibious vehicle

nonetheless

glass

this particular

here I am again in the large concrete building with the rain

beats down on me like a specific superhero in midwinter

poems with one swipe of the red pencil the stairs end

before they reach down to the next floor dealing


with all these changes in the landscape I stand here

before you uncompiled in nightshade recognizing

myself and my behaviors in this code and these

creatures with their direct statues in the water rising

wall

i am erased in so many ways


i am erased


erased

brick heart

aubade

O alarm clock! How do I love thee?

I love thee as I love the meter maid.

cigarette me

deepest circa

a toy cigarette that emits simulated smoke

heart on a card heart on a bird

like something related to amaryllis

looking at washroom hearts on fire

or the drainage ditch with the bridge

a heart of blue

wherever a heart of blue appears

donated sunday episodes in pendants

instrumental topaz customized

like the crystal procession tears

purple heart

bright orange gerber daisies

floating in a gray river

sweet parade it's cold here as

the geese come hronking

stone roses

snowdrops

the galanthus are here

making hearts too

dropping white like a gift

with bread and soap

broken

i have been tampered with

*
the cotton ball smeared a slightly pink

*
when hearts could be found everywhere in the world when

*
embracing ligatures longly comb

lampostingrainlovesong

creatures

the berries tangled and heavy are not berries this way

half-summer hurting in winter over the


*

spaces between windows flex like serving

the spoils of a recent dumpster dive

to the unwitting to the pearl-clad set

*

clasping

the heart in knots

bicycle day

if the poem falls

for the forest does

anybody hear it

riding my bike

down that steep path

like a maneuver towards

the unfinished highway tunnel

full of the yellow construction