I am the one and only to hear my fridge
I’ll get there and go right to the library
Grey light through a tight blind, did it know I would always think it as the morning?
I like to read, I like it when flower names fall out
I itch all over (because of the schemes just beneath my skin)
I set my legs to work mixing the mulch with straw working for a penny a brick
O, I feel the cold in snow shapes
What am I falling in, like a vent?
I like to run my hands along the rails
Forgetting that I can’t read Spanish and can only look
I might find a map of Vineland
When I hear something that I hate I let it go said
I’ve taken note of the fickleness of my stars
If I were to dress and prepare, say to walk 100 blocks uphill along the Hudson
* * *
Confused mess in an intention dress
I consider it all at this hour
The super says, “I like your mauve in light”
Pointing west, “Your man went that way”
And my love poem rebounds
What would make Rupert Murdoch blush?
Kentucky wilderness, that’s what we share
Sad, sad, out of difficulty voice I hear
Imagine using force, and you never do
Do this tomorrow in the morning
Set your slaves free
Does something need to leave so bad?
Thrills the hippie bells on their way in
Goes this way that way the plane brings you by