Thursday, April 17, 2014


(For J.K.)

Morning light
your message asks
if I'm alright--when you
dreamt of me last night
it sounds like maybe
I was not alright

Morning breaks too,
birds are the traffic
wardens of our sky--
like them, I become
many many things.
All small magic--

Like a funnel it's still
and still the same thing
on the other side. One
must keep on, there's
little choice on a slide.
I just thank you, believing...

me as I argue what I didn't
know I knew. That's huge.
See: If I said now, even
innocuously, "raincoats on."
Someone (age 6) might scoff
"How would *you* know?"


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