forsythia blossom he stops using the n word

 seedless the sky is neither fruit nor berry

 thinking itself a Spaniard the birch 

 

as simple as a stalk of grass swaying in the wind as simple as that

 not telling anyone about the marshmallow you ate

 Christ like this field in Burgundy

 replacing you with a line of marigolds

 while some are barely green others are double yellow

 recognising bicycles a flower

 fried onions the wooden parrot's tongue 

 fried sausages the child's yawn 

 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