why not dream of fish
why not translate easy symbols
faith,
have it
is the cola sign not a sign
red and white, austere
the color of Fresh blood on Bleached cotton
should the dingier square
not be a park, other than a rail yard
shouldn't the pond
contain Tilapia
instead of copper fillings
green as a dollar sign
i own more than 3 knifes, and
know that means gluttony
but i can not pair down the collection
this is the sand lot at the end of my mind
this is where i kick dirt and think,
halt at its corners, a ghost runner
standing in for some other person
at some other time, finding the fillet
blade waiting, i carve to the bone
the tissue, still living, it focuses, in and
blurs all the colors to one framed instant
that never existed- and now does.
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