Sunday, May 24, 2015


Otto is shopping
with his brother
in Chinatown, ex-
changing emails
as I write this.  I
keep forgetting what
everything is called. 
There’s butter and
flower and ball and
pig with mustache. 
But what’s the
purpose of each?
I know that this is
umbrella but what
does it do?  Is it a
thing to grab hold
of so that you rise
toward heaven?  The
elevator is dizzy and
the books that protrude
from that wall of blue
are checking me out.
That wall is spindrift.
The foam of the sea
that is captured and
poured into a por-
celain cup is my
breakfast of
green tea.