She wore a beautiful blank stare

Ahh what clouds

Like a question

Counted to ten by twos and smiled for not knowing a better thing to do



Paper tree the moon is paper
the paper stone
the paper shard the potshard

The paper soil
the unnamed paper plant from

The paper museum
the paper congress with paper desks with paper pencils
the paper ink

The paper doves
the paper pigeons the paper telephone wire
six paper pigeons

The paper lake paper sailboat paper fish paper lakeweeds
the paper shoreline
the paper sundown

Paper sand the paper litter the paper rake the

Paper change

Paper reason

Paper courage

Paper butterfly the paper chair the paper frames the paper camera
the sun is paper
the sun is paper


what is fertile?

When the rain.
When the freeze is ended.

The clouds are fertile still in November.
The bed is fertile.

The body is fertile.




Getting there to stations
the convincement of monies for

The bus is free
the free bus is timely
takes no turns
one can sleep on the free bus
passes through the pastel the platinum the putrid with
environmental control
the seats recline

There is water associated with
clean and covering water it
settles into the earth
near enough to stay confidence
it has caused

Arrived at the nobody place settling contradictions
reconciled the one and the many
pleasantly enough to be satisfied
[the shape of land]
[the scaleable walls leaned a water inward to a named creek]
[a bottom flats collected]
the cabin is a station

The bus had let out
in the city bordering the noncity

the arrows pointed
a head holds a body high a clouds move a body swiftly
change goes so swiftly to constance
swiftly they met
swiftly they formed intentions with perforated
fell asleep with

Oh what dream to call a kingdom small and
I am no more reluctant for establishing amiable bus rides
they go to rivers like the others had
measuring travel in miles
measuring travel in distance

There was a lucky poem comes to mind
at mile 1121:

    When the horses were free freed in idea
    when a callus certainty lets away that which runs
    carries itself without thoughts of itself
    I cannot say I am discovered yet
    gladly I cannot say I am discovered yet

A hilltop
the busses went went
they were green this year with less smoke



warm with baby

from:  letters (2010)