Tuesday, January 17, 2006


there’s a butterfly in the dryer
with the blue sheets

today I worked my stained
blue slacks and old white shirt

my orange tie under wraps
but in a nice location

I don’t know what cries
behind the closet door

(but it’s no more poetic than the
droll garden with its hums and the

other hums from where the trashcan sits)
even though I can’t feel half my

self I’m out of the frying pan
and into the lotus position

look it’s a nut in the sky
tiny tiny