flick (you in the long dark kitchen, egg, buttermilk, cornmeal, leavening,
a bacon grease seasoned skilled slick as Narcissus’s reflecting pool)—
flick (dim green gradient skies,
silhouette black riverscape, the familiar woman watching from the bridge)—flick
(around every hallway bend, its mirror, every stair, its next flight,
until, God forbid, the uppermost landing)—flick…

try not to rise in anger. think about Kellogg’s inspiration, last night’s popcorn. in the quiet lonely morning, leftover cornbread for breakfast.

fruit basket

bashed in, bruised and

browned bananas

tasked with

a hand thats armed

to swat fruit flies

dead; abandoned

slack gnats, bug

smacked, guts stain

my palms

didn’t even mean to trap it

i could be dramatic

collapse quick

everyone knows my gripe with insects

taunted, when they flaunt

such small hips

tipped over into nostrils

flutter by, lick my ears

slick, please

stop

it with

the tricks

i am big thats

my disadvantage so

ill have the blue light

catch flies

for me

be careful

landing

I ain’t been down 

I click on the smiling picture
of me from three weeks ago.
I refuse to take a photo now.

I look for the full moon—
for the direction I used to know—
but I am swallowed
by a sky gone black.

The doorway keeps making space.

There is a gravity in my chest now;
everything collapses toward it.

The moment you appear,
I sew my mouth shut.
My thumbs hover above the glass;
I open our thread and come undone.

American favorites. Picket fences white, and yellow tulips. From beneath the nitrogen black of dirt and eggshells—the grubs and fireflies pushing.  When, as children, we rose Sunday mornings full of grace, moonlike angels landed.  Please catch us.  Hold us.  Softest approach in winter singing safety to us, grey woolen socks, and burnt the taste of custard flán. I was frightened, each apparition arpeggiated screams on triangles, tricycles, baubles on Christmas trees—fashioned of spike, wire, and smoke.  1976, I fell down a flight of stairs, caught in air who promised the world leavened bread.  No poverty.  For an instant I did not have a name.  

Naming the birth pain
call the bird before the rain
come whatever May

We shivered as the 1980’s government sought to anesthetize us with My Buddy and My Kid Sister, Barbie —affluent and clever.  Perhaps we were terrified and the world ate canned shit because Ron and Nancy Reagan chanted Just Say No.  That incomprehensible demoralization. Children violated by agendas, prepped for sleep, urged to see a problem where they had none.  

What is the rag doll
that sits low upon my knees
—mediocrity

Just want you to know
I’m thinking of you.
Know that if I weren’t
Sick I’d visit you.
Know you are not alone.

                                                                       Thx take care of urself
                                                                       First                                                                                            

As soon as it’s safe
I’ll come visit you                                                                       

                                                                       Thank you

                                       ===                                       
                                       ===

Hey just wondering
if you’re up for a vomit
Tomorrow

Visit

Sorry about autocorrect

                                                                        Just when u feel like
                                                                        showing up

11ish?                                                                         
                                                                        11ish

                                        ===                                       
                                        ===

Hey I thi9nk I’m
relapsing I don’t
think I should come
this morning                                                                         

                                                                      NP

Coughing a lot
and I woke up
in a sweat                                                                     

                                                                     I’m sorry to hear

Thanks                                                                     

                                                                     A complete recovery

To both of us   

Birds always see the prettiest of things
And envy do we all a bird’s eye view
Sights which are seen by only those with wings

Woodpecker sees dark shading of tree rings
The sap coating the bark like morning dew
Birds always see the prettiest of things

Crow sees the shiny glint of hidden bling
Dropped in the grass which quickly overgrew
Sights which are seen by only those with wings

Owl sees just how the darkest evening sings
With footsteps, when close to small prey they’ve drew
Birds always see the prettiest of things

Robin sees the small grains all ants bring
To nest, and how from such small grains hills grew
Sights which are seen by only those with wings

What wonders of the ground does longing bring
When thinking of the close view birds can do!
Birds always see the prettiest of things
Sights which are seen by only those with wings