mid-orbit a daisy chain snaps into screams

in The Big Book of Snow 113 words for blackbird

more and more the eye of me not me leaf-shadows carousing mindless

when someone leaves before dawn a cotton-y sky all I see

so why not swivel the mind seated in the brain unsaid of elephants

and what you have to become stone or rice

hoodlum clouds across her face a rough pie cut

over humps can't look away from his Adam's apple

furious wind
 losing the magic word

the blue nail polish I borrowed turned me into a planet

limber souls adept in worship a broken neck

pushing out to sea a solitary eye 

I water a black rose shedding petals on a brush

march of words scatter a cataract vision of history on squared jaws

in the rook of a sagging love seat where you're curled up totally insane is a crime

watch the step snail

and from the glyph that became the cipher 3 the waves in the wheat was made

the sun growing big with the stench of unwashed mouths

frog thinking: croak now or be a pond forever

banging against the wall an empty head wind

naming raindrops between (possible) world wars

The itching in the left thumb. You. The rain machine.

either with a telephone or with another human being

i think he's dead the wind on an hermit crab

on a marionette’s cheeks a finger-stream

thunderstorm relentless on our faces