wrong strain of
weather
to wave my
feather
like all’s
fine-
dodging scowls from
strangers
over
scars don’t feel
like mine.
coloursofthesoul
making mental
contact
with tipping stool
in closet,
mercy..
knot me fingertip
to wrist,
to deny me
fists.
cramped toes inching
outside
chaos greases
tracks
to
no mask dance
one heel
in
last chance fades
mid flash.
unearthing cross
of bones
not far from hole
a home
recedes from
sunny
side
of street for
relief
worms between
sheets.
tasked in haste
to hatch
but
shell won’t
crack
while under
attack.
savor boredom’s
breath
like salted
honey
glaze my page
for days
to
distract from
poise i
lack
as
loafer baked
away in
back.
virgin to this
texture
of
pleasure
not born of
need
to
flee come
dawn
unfolds like
crown
of sparrows at their
most calm
whenever in
song.
may solace bless
your soul
dear uncle
Ant
dreams but
can’t
drag the clock
black.
untamed yet
timid
to
give of river
scant
on
fins of brazen
colors
run no real
bother
to
feeders burrow
bottom
craven light may
catch them.
Promise
that despite my
late reply
i’m
getting
by,
tho not by
much..
to try before
i forget
why.
hands in the garden 
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