black spring tea—
even it dances
to the beat.

hours after lunch
stuck to my thumb
peanut butter

4 looms ‘bove—
not ‘nough time to hear
every song.

black spring tea
before drowsy eyes
multiplies

the feeling o’
lukewarm washcloths on
my pimples

Leaves its cave
hibernation to eat—
lawnmower.

In my attempts to shelter rain,

the sun still sneaks inside through blind spots,

stretching stark nights wide awake

& making mornings gorgeous vine clots.

(Thanks.)

O, ¿will I miss another bus

on sidewalks paved with flashing chills?

Why, yes, I will—all because o’ the sun,

who never has to pay the bills.

(What a bum.)

Hey.

Stop cutting up my meters, son—

I must walk 10 to reach my destination.

¿Or was that 8?… Fuck…

“To wait this line you must have patience.”

(¿What?)

But I don’t want to end, my friend—

to leave my friend, the cheddar oak.

¿Who needs birdseed when I could tend

to pinecones pancaked under spokes?

(Shut up—it makes perfect sense.)

2 doves on
creaky branches called
a couplet

departing—
branches sing no more,
“O, fuck it.”