like sacred music the newt’s belly

 it could be something else her as a houseplant

 RoboCop the sky just before sunrise 

 after grafting two pieces of soap a boy falls from the sky

 still the stone age hooded crow

 like a lentil you crush the moth 

 

“ … but in the city you can have 2, 3 or 4 shadows moving at different speed”

 beyond Coeur d'Alene Zac learns Greek

 the last winter at your father's house 

 on Wednesday you touch a geranium 

 on the pine floor pine 

 Just enough room for Brazil a thin line in the snow

 sapphire the sophistication of dying

 existing to be viewed the policeman’s gait

 

of course you say it’s the silence that describes the ocean and rocking horses painted blue

 

“there’s no end to water” you hear yourself say to your left foot

 

the autumn gland may resemble a chestnut dog

 

dreamed that I couldn’t dream of turtles in tutus

 

never in reversed sentences I talk

 you the banana before you you

 summer clouds the moods of sharks 

 an ant finds a home in the plastic 

 summer closing and all the things you've lost 

 After striking the sliotar you notice a pain in your shoulder and then pipes start to grow from your face. 

you trade your eyes for a dog and someone comes by with a basket full of fresh picked heather and you feel glad

 above the building’s reflection the cloud’s reflection

 putting on glasses you forget to breathe

 between the slices of Madeira cake infinity

 where the pine's shadow ends elective affinities

 hot afternoon the mosquito’s laconic curse