the darkness

he began under my chin

head back near the fence
contented where the donkeys were.
alone, then fell would begin
anguish move toward me, and
the world had follow. I
and sorrow.

I knew something made me afraid
several stayed then walked parallel to solidity
playfully, one would fence me, dumb and walk along back.  Staring.

They would stand as if they’d wait forever across the fence.

The donkeys on the other side.


Summer grey blots, in a far corner
where they stood for Don Quixote
short, contemplating
they managed serene when I peered


always move each other outside or within anything
something like a call was, who the results surely knew from home anyway
she’d thought of the black-illuminated night
at night across the darkness

the birdhouse

WRENS trilling the mother in horror
ideals of peace.

sparrow?
suggested the birdhouse
the tiny hole
the birdhouse
that spring
my defeat began killing my every hour
and orphaned thirteen days

fly bluebird
the adopted children

sparrows spring torment
feed the sparrows wanting
guarding the end, victors
from our decided release

spar-blue
the sparrow flew


New waves, Albatross
sail wandering shearwaters
whose dominoes surf guard loneliness
breeding primacy
here, sooty wanderers

Time
rhythm
the most direct route, Peter


the heaving sky rising off swooping alba-


Breakfast
sex.
breeding.

The dance like this may meet
her mate’s limited romance
alive