Thursday, July 16, 2015

mmcdxx

The House of Whistle

Organic birds
chop the morning
into seven after-
noons. No colors,
just charcoal.
Famous last
words reduce
life to sediment.
I would be dead
were it not for
telekinesis. I
draw the blinds
and there you are
wearing a lampshade
for a helmet. It’s
a thousand wonders
I ever noticed the
hippo on the road 
to nowhere.

hippos on the road to nowhere