Nettle Trail

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unseasonably hospitable
east side of easter

3 month old human
chips, trills, coos
secretive mourning dove
in a pine tree

first touch is a bite
recoil
soft young weed things

take over the sides
emit a purple glow

in the houses voices are
comment sections
on the news of grotesque crimes
resign from politics
dispute anger and emotion
but this growing thing
gets bigger
there’s no way
but up towards the fire

peregrination

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dig up meridian

like burdock tea

accidentally put me to sleep

and dream blankly

where the line reverses

and can’t remember

palm patterns

cerulean warbler

local anomaly

not remembered

could be a secret

which once unlocked

can unravel in sleep

simple answers

from the sun’s

other side

an ice cream truck

climbs up

a water fall

gets lost

in the paper

raining lquid

nitrogen

Open Night

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Let night sounds filter in from an incandescent street

lepers in the tree frogs summer

holy appendages keep us awake late into the night

trying without feeling

to remember or recreate any feeling

so this week can close

and i will remember it

and some of the people i talked to during it

some of the things i thought about

like using up 5 billion years of energy

in a matter of several generations

and why do I have no energy

the night pump is broken sweating water

into the walls around where we dream

and why am I always so lazy please

just forget about all that and go ballroom dance

we can’t just sit around and wait for it to come back

I plan on missing Earth when we shoot to Mars

Fake Mail

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Thunderer,

when I open the hinge

on a city tree trunk

sparks fly out and away

like faeries and bank offers

whisper in the darkest second

of the longest day

walk on very frozen lakes

with your eyes closed

St. Patrick’s trinkets

green foil divine for a moment

it takes to sparkle once

so fast

it must have been bullshit

Bargains arrive on the wind

the people who make this country great

are peeping in my keyholes

BHAAAAAG-NANANAAAAAA

FWUUUUUUUUUUUP

warmth is sucked through holes

BHAAAAAG-NANANAAAAAA

icicles falling

last Thursday’s family emergency

illustrated by a cracking sky

in the shape of a milkshake

FWUUUUUUUUUUUP

No word is better

than plastic

I come home and find

letters from ghosts