I Apologize For Nearly Everything Since My Heart Hurts
How formulate these things I’ve become.
Fractured window shutters.
Creekwails in a confluence of robins’ eggs.
How arrange baskets under fruit trees. Insist on has been
less sad gray scent. Wherefore arrange this tree.
Sky, once again, expresses migration routes
& I seek out the best Happy Hour view in town.
I consider bird v. bar maid. I consider the after party.
Sky’s internal decorator.
I don’t know how long I’ve been missing.
I’ve become sad and dusty like a garden hose
at an estate sale. What’s not for sale? Some day,
Sky will rain three-dimensional
like children pretending they’re asleep.
Cloaked in tall grass, Rain will approach
in his riding lawnmower. Here & now,
a blackbird I’ve articulated
swallows a jet stream like a string
of spaghetti. What choked-up songs
too pretty for a pilot’s ears.