#1
number one is riding too
fast on a bike
down a steep hill
under my sworn intention
in verbal composition.
never forget the icy
mint fresh of number
two which is falling
after a snowflake or
number three which is
following virginia woolf
to closely.
nails hurt like
hiding in a
baskin robbins
washroom
or pretending to make a phone call.
feeling trapped cooking
out of rectangles
i always forget
the date when hinges go rusty
and cabbies at midnight
listen to drag
on the corner.
number one-hundred and fifty
is a summer day
in an oversized stall
made of steel and dry whispers.
number two hundred and five
is an official testament and
high water pants.
number twenty-seven
is musky body parts
and innocence waiting to close and go home.
#6
busk in the subway to
romania for unbearable
weight that you were told
was light equals innocent
to helping the woman with
her recyclage with
the neighbors cat swimming
in a swimming poll
with a blue chandail
on the spy nect
door with mustard
on rye fashion agencies
behind closed curtains
in saint petersburg which
was really lille on the
final voyage to the
blue room of painted tiles
and handmade cards with
photos of st. nick for
secret composers for the
union is protection of
fallen women and destroyed
compositions and lost daughters.
