Seven True Stories
divided highway
late night, coming in my lane
head lights, a story
*
the sky and I,
both of us opening—
peal of unrung bells
*
the old cottonwood
tell me, when is the last time
you climbed it?
*
that ornery face,
yep, I folded it up,
put it in a safe place
*
laying in the grass
our bodies altars—
gold leaf offerings
*
everything shimmering
how could I not French kiss
the chill air
*
that bird, wonder if
he too gets so stunned by sky
he forgets how to sing