Saturday, February 11, 2017


I want to believe in something unique.

Like fluorescent blue light bulbs?

Like senators projecting themselves in cautious dance.

I’ve got something you may need.

A duty-free container?

Someone to write letters to.

They say, “Kindness exists in portions.”

Like a cake.

Like a football field.

They say, “Happiness exists in corners.”

Like a pile of sweaters.

Larry Levis said something about trees.

That’s why I’ve called you here.

Take a seat.

Open the window.

No, take a seat.

I’ll open the window.

How long have you been a crocodile?

Can you stop green?

Can you begin fern?

I can’t repeat questions.

Questions have expired.

Vanished into tea air.

This poem appeared in issue 5 of Poetry City, USA

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