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