“What happens if you make a distinction between what you tell your friends and what you tell your Muse?”

“Believing something will happen 
        Because I don’t want it to 
And that some other thing won’t 

Kowabunga! The amoeba was
                                                  mountainous.
Venusian burgers were sailing out

I like breathing better than work
but strange is the meat
when it is yanked out of the sky

The fog comes in, flatter
than ever. The air, apparently

is blue somewhere, not here.

Eric Dolphy can’t wake up:
the green light’s still burning
by the gate. Pine cones

Conversation

words=canned reasoning

.

Grammar tells us

Whatever interest
there was in
difference’s gone.

I write this for your eyes and ears and heart

If it makes your eyes sore

                                 ears weary

 

It is a loose sleeve whose hair wraps the
Bedouin on his pony and then slings him
Into the wind, always to be a monad

Everything turns into tape. It (check one)
        puts the multiples on a loop     (1)
        reduces all numbers to one       (2)

The sweetpeas, pale diapers
Of pink and powder blue, are flags
Of a water color republic.

The green world thinks the sun
Into one flower, then outraces
It to the sea in sunken pipes.

My wife’s recipe for a fairy:
Put buttercup pollen
And a canary feather

After the sponge bath
Spice cake and coffee
In a sky blue china cup

 

Light spray over a daisy chain of days.
Many wives, brought on rocking boats,
Dissolve in one loved damsel.

The stars flow beneath the water
The clouds freeze or collapse
In laughter, lure like a pledge

The door behind me was you 
and the radiance, there like 
an electric train wreck in your eye 

The rat who came last night scratching
By the door—did you appreciate
He might be wanting to converse?

You approach me carrying a book
The instructions you read carry me back beyond birth
To childhood and a courtyard bouncing a ball

The margin of mountain grass moved from our feet
down
       the apron of