old jawbones

lying at right angles—
my camera is a phone

I dreamed I’d written a book about all my disguises.

When I woke up, it was true.

A dream is like a small animal that disappears when you chase it

but will come back if you offer it food.

on the morning

of my departure leaves bordered in frost

Internal division is in your best interests

if it means being always prepared for a change in the wind.

This coiled resistance may become a spring—

the first arabesque of a new wild.

Audubon walk

admiring a pheasant’s
dismembered foot

clouds in our airspace

and all this immigrant snow
clinging to our land

In penmanship class,

time itself was looped, recursive, as my vision blurred and fingers cramped around the cursèd pen.

The sky of my childhood

was full of places to climb and sit.

Resolution

I must never forget how exhilarating it felt to find myself briefly at the head of a mob.

Blue blood

belongs only to those with no need for veins, like a wanderlust that starts where the highway ends.