I wait in the pines

the wind grating

on centuries of ears

woman with a welding mask

fusing two words together

the pinkeyed babies began to crawl

like snails ascending mount fuji

solitary tree stump

guarding the valley

I can organize
my pantry I can
ornament my time I can
ornament my pantry
I can't organize time

raise the tissue

and play your nose

like a harmonica

I turn myself

into a birdfeeder

now where are the birds

birdsong of two shoes

alone in the dark

the lightbulb waits

orestes sheathes his dagger

pats his mother on the heart

spiders in the attic

were playing russian roulette

with little spider pistols

a golden octopus

slopping over

the ocean's crest

two strands of hair

smiling around the nipple

each traveled

like a messenger

looking for a mate

to wound

sun setting
the palmtrees
on fire

in the shadow of the large white balloon

the helicopter's spotlight

combs the mountainpaths

for the fugitive squirrel

I open the book to find

the dried body of a spider

dancing the past

the girl in blue

tapping her foot

is the shivering spot

like a butterknife

across a plate of muffins

anguish visited each house

as I consider my stock options

the monkey continues

searching my scalp

for his lost banana

a yeti's foot stomped

in the bathroom mat

two dust motes inhaled

by the perfect lungs of night

the sea cracks and recoils

like a rubberband

come back sea

I scream come back

I reach up and pet

the german shepherd clouds

I take off my face

to reveal the mask

underneath

to do list

make faces

at effigies of birds

along the telephone pole

a story spelled out

in parrots

at the man's kind words

the tortilla was speechless

into the sky

her kite writes a song

winter morning

the walls of the house

are beating like a heart