Your Godmother, Almost Blind, / crochets away / the news / of your day.
But She can’t help / this rainbow: strong / / at both ends, / every color equally / present.
It’s evening at my writing desk and both these spaces / are a silence, the dimly-lit expanse of years stretching one / / after another.
If I lost you in a forest if / like a fox you went under / / ground its own earth / another world
according to some jesus is the pilot of a / pimped-out flying saucer according to / some jesus plays fiddle like a fiend / possessed
The grating roar of adolescence / blooming red between my legs, poppy, / the bright girdle coming out of the sky / like a halo.
