song
sauntered into him between
the notes of short & long
from
where does what word spring
to mind you can’t know
anything
about
the simplest flower in this
midday blue so dark you expect
to see
stars Rembrandt’s lion
still poised
and nonchalant after all these years
silent
entry of four white pink-faced
geese into the lake with a memory
ticket
marked everything hanging from
your neck reading withdraws
from
him voices of the dead
bellowing
at you from all sides
