How the laws of a change of perspective
sound so eloquent and intellectual -

and how their glasses
reflect the sunlight and seem
so ill-positioned here

so out of purpose -
though in line -
and out of use already

Close
your folders
your handbooks of modules and rules
put aside your cups of linguistic wisdom

Release
the trees from your far-reaching longsightedness
pull off the net:

Confess
that you are
as clever as we feel you were from the

beginning.

*And with a feeble smile I turned around
and looked at them
and said:

"If you don't get this now-
                       I rest my case"

No matter how far
you can walk
no matter where you take your turn
nothing will show
upon this land
nothing will grow.

Burn all the waste
dig holes so deep
the ground breaks in upon itself
blow up the soil
so that the seep
comes up.

And in the end
you see-
you walk towards yourself:
a convex mirror hems
your field-
and as you try to flee
and as you try to shield your face-

it closes in upon you.

in a previous imagination the boy was able to overcome his attention span.  it was there he pummeled his pregnancy.  I wanted a clearer image but was told to take the boy as is or not at all.  I could feel his sister trapped in the same horror she was later revealed to be outside of.  up until then, I was sad her whole life.

The night draws out --
as if still yearning to linger...
but a star will burst forth
and morning will quickly break.
We linger in dawn-dim rooms,
silently contemplating our fate...
Our lives seem so minute,
so limited compared to the
   ever-lasting cosmos.
We seem staid -- and yet,
our hearts are not that way.
We need merely to step out upon
   the great expanse --
need only take that first step,
and the eternal essence
will receive us.

First the sun,
then rustling in the leaves.
Summer comes quietly.

my friend approaches the microphone with a grocery bag on his head.  I don’t know how this will turn out.  not long ago he ran over a fourteen year old girl minutes after she vandalized a stop sign.  my friend has lived everyday since and everyday previous with the fact she survived.  I phoned his wife recently but she had already left him for what he calls a microcosm.  I am hopeful I can love what he’s done with his hair.  he sent me this flower for mine.

son
face down
in an empty
bowl
of milk.  

his long hair
carried off
by his sister’s
head.

a plastic spider
in the cereal box
glows.

my foster parents
think
I’m asleep.

as asleep
as my legs.

the smallest body
I have
belongs
to my brother.

using a toddler
drawn
picture
of his heart
I trace
his heart.

after he passed
he was diagnosed
retroactively
with inattentional
blindness.

he had only just begun
to covet
my beliefs.