Space

There are other
animals on my mind.

They drink
from the river.

*

What kind
of bird is that

floating in the sky?

*

The moon is dead.
The moon is not

interested in birds.

*

Cameras flash over
my shoulder.

Can't a man get a tan
without a hand.

*

I am at the zoo

staring through the world's
most uninteresting

looking panda.

In God We Trust

I popped

My beak off.

I mean

I took my

Sweetie

Bird to the

Dog park today.

She has

The chocolates.

I mean she has

These chocolate

Quarters

For eyes.

An eagle

Has eclipsed

The crescent moon.

I accidently

Called her George

Last night.

She just kept

Kissing me.

Sugar Pine Dr

What happened
to the horse's

legs.

The coming
of legs,

legs in a boxcar.

Everything
passes like

hooves,

tentacles locked
in the tree-

tops,

aped-out
until my arms rip

off.

My love is
slowly octopusing.

Aww

The bird has
exploded.

The lone
sycamore is
like OMG!

A single
window
awestruck open.

The snowman
is melting.

Snow Removal

Old doll
with face
cracked-off,

Blue eye
of morning.

Stuffed
hawk of
un-cloud,

Spiral out
the fluffy.

Sub-Ethereal II

The movement on the horizon is not alone. Their bodies look like daggers and the trees keep slipping from the soil. Her face is a star map, a doe-eyed honeywell. His face is Orion, a desert-hammer, eyes like gravity. The flowage-fold will find ways to mass out, to datamass, to tongue-kiss the celestial object. They move like earthworms and televisions screaming.

Poem with People

The Snow
is falling,
falling,
the fallen
white blanket
Orion'd out.
The fabric,
fabric of
walking
fabric-walk
of opened-earth
I walk.