the simple mentality of my dears
horsing around the meadow-brook
with all my ginger boys
covering up my nouns with
verbs, i want do i mean
by spends? they aren’t
paying me to sit here dreaming
o, i wish they would–
what shapes our skulls is square;
ends end justify the means or
averages of all we love under
currants that get stuck in our teeth.
the foundations we build
want to go forward; we stagnate them
for solid footing when it is nothing
but cherry blossoms.