Cloud Houses

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

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