In bed waiting, moon is not you again
They were the sticky rice
operating subversively from a distance
Not there
But here
Lost three shoes on the ground I fell into
Thinking the cloud
was not above me
For that beauty to belong,
being functional as information
it makes similar in aweness all
empathy is outside of hierarchy
Angels scrubbing
Former daughter
Another season’s sweetened
They’ll come in the shape of sugar
to send a message
As the takers as the eaters
Very green and under tables
The navigation belies spaces
Hinges stick
Out and have a fit pretzeled
2 blossoms
2 blossoms
A vessel is never empty, holding itself
Weep into sweet paws for each fell into
Sweet paws
Delicately as the gravel’s heat
To start all over again