In heaven
Where coins are useless
No need for eyeballs
**
Boat rotting on the beach
Ghost still rows
What happens
Is relatively simple
**
Houses, barns, trees
Proclaim in mannered voices
Those who presided here.
**
Turns on his radio
For psychotherapy
**
Andante Favori
A dance with animals, autumn
**
“He thinks the moon is a small hole at the top of the sky, proving the sky quite useless for protection.”
—Elizabeth Bishop
Blind man with pictures in his head…
**
I make cloud houses for a living
I’m a fair singer also
**
Don’t judge my posture
**
Poor Achilles, always a mama’s boy
**
Eat more American prunes
**
Cat stares down coyote
Past lives are decisive
**
Best anagram ever: “Public relations” = “Crap built on lies”
**
Imagination had been grudging
Now it was doggish
Over there and over there
