i was outside on the porch
taking in the sky with clear
eyes,
she comes out in my shirt
saying “pretty,
pretty boy”
and i go inside with
unfocused eyes
and stare at the broken
oven–and you will call me
after that,
and i will think i
know what you want,
and i will make a song about it,
and i will write about it,
and i will soon disappear.
sky
tanka
poetrysnow white geese
cut across the sky
traveling by night.
silently we look up,
breaking the fire’s gaze.
this asphyxiated night sky
poetryevery night there seems
one less star
in this
asphyxiated
nig
ht
s
k
y
.