once for my children i held you in just one hand running changeup hidden behind my baseball glove your quiet ways loud as high summer sun i spread a gingham blanket those days & watched your sun burn cross the sky inside me is a stone cathedral carved by your chirping chisel down its deep
what i learned last week flies might not be deep thinkers but they are quick decision makers all the doors stick but the one that will not stay shut press your elbow into it to close it every year people fly miles to Boston to run 26.2 more Nietzsche was an avid walker & an
blind to a broadwing hawk i squint to see just the drag of his dark shadow roll over lincoln green leaves an oak has heaped & holds atop her head i mean just look at all this hawk & oak butter sun silver cloud look at all this waiting like an unopened soda can quiet
